Love, Hate, It's All The Same
by GoldenSnidget13
Summary: Ginny Weasley, girlfriend of Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived, Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, has a lot on her mind - and the last thing she needs is the egotistical Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons interfering... it's not like she has a secret crush on him or anything! It's hate at first sight when she meets Harry Potter, but love, hate, it's all the same, right?... AU, H/G
1. Hate At First Sight

**Disclaimer**: All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s) and are in no way connected to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros. The author of the following FanFiction does not in any way profit from the story and it is written solely for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters and their settings is neither claimed nor implied.

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Chapter One - Hate At First Sight

* * *

"Six Firewhiskeys and one pumpkin juice, please, Tobias." Gwenog Jones' hearty, boisterous voice rang out over the meagre chatters of the pub's occupants. "Weasley here is either pregnant, in which case I'm going to kill her, or drank too much yesterday."

"Neither." Ginny Weasley, Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies and not afraid to stand up to Gwenog, commented brashly. "Actually, I just don't drink."

Tobias, Wednesday's barman for the Hog's Head, grunted and chuckled amiably. "Ruddy youngsters. You could do with taking some pointers from her, Gwenog. Last time you were here you got trashed. If I remember correctly, you had to be escorted out by my bouncer."

Gwenog scowled as her team giggled, her dark cheeks tinted a glowing crimson. "Watch your mouth, Tobias Windsnap. I could whack you over the head with my broomstick and land you in St. Mungo's for a week if I wanted. Just get our drinks."

Gwenog was rude when she wanted to be, which seemed to Ginny was most of the time. She had no reason to be in a bad mood, however; the team's practise that day had gone reasonably well, excluding the Seeker's fumble with the Snitch and Ginny's slight mishap catching the Quaffle. In fact, the team had left the mud-soaked pitch feeling good about their upcoming match on Saturday with the Falmouth Falcons, who had won all three games they'd played that season. Ginny was just feeling glad that Gwenog hadn't made a remark about who the father of her non-existent child would be...Neville Longbottom, her boyfriend, also known as the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Well, Weasley, how do you like life on the Harpies?" questioned her fellow teammate, Gloria Gaughley. Gloria, the ditzy, clumsy member of the team (yet not one to be crossed when holding her Beater's bat) had become instant friends with Ginny. It helped that she had been the one to introduce Ginny to the Harpies, after seeing her perform at Hogwarts and recommending her to a Harpies talent scout (they shared a flat).

"I love it." was Ginny's truthful answer; although her mother hadn't been too enthusiastic about her taking the job at first (for what Ginny considered ridiculous reasons), she had been thrilled when they'd offered her a place. George had been particularly supportive, and was using her in his advertisements for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, smirking at the camera as she tossed Dungbombs into the air and caught them deftly. "I just don't see why we have to get drunk every other week."

"Gwenog likes to nip into the Hog's Head from time to time," retorted Gloria, smirking triumphantly as her eyes flickered over to where Gwenog was downing a chilled amber liquid and arguing with Tobias, "for her own reasons. Including a certain bartender who works the Wednesday shift. Of course, she knows it looks odd if she goes by herself so she drags us along with her to rot our livers."

Ginny laughed amicably. "Tobias and Gwenog? I'd never have guessed."

"Oh _shit_," hissed Gloria, causing Ginny to jump in alarm and slop icy water down her jade Harpies jersey. "Foulmouth Falcons."

The _Fal_mouth Falcons, known by all the other teams as the _Foul_mouth Falcons, were known for their arrogant natures and cocky temperaments. Gloria, who had briefly had a fling with the team's Keeper, Archie Fagonwheel, had informed Ginny that they were all heartless jerks who cared about winning, and winning alone. Nevertheless, Ginny had decided to give them a fair chance before judging, and grinned devilishly at Gloria's discomfort.

"Archie Fagonwheel," murmured Gloria anxiously, her face splashed ivory-white. "He's here. Oh shit, shit, shit!"

"_You _dumped him." Ginny reminded her soothingly. "So what's the problem?"

"How are you enjoying this so much?" demanded Gloria furiously, slamming her empty glass down on the glossy marble worktop. "Your ex-boyfriend just got onto their team, you know."

Ginny's head snapped up at this, topaz orbs widening in shock. "You're joking," she accused her friend, "Michael said he was never going back to Quidditch."

"He lied then." snapped Gloria shortly. "Look, there he is!"

Sure enough, a stocky man with clipped russet locks and a tight expression had joined the other jabbering Falcons, a small shot of whisky nestled in his hand. Michael Corner.

Ginny sighed. "I don't care." she told Gloria crisply, who gaped at her in wonder. "I don't. We broke up ten months ago, and I'm sure we can be on good terms. I'm not going to talk to him unless he talks to me, and I'm not going to look for a fight. I spent enough time arguing with that idiot than I should have ever done when we were together. And I've got to focus on Neville right now."

Ginny had been dating Neville for almost seven months. They'd briefly dated during their time at Hogwarts, and had rekindled the romance a few years later. The relationship was scrutinised heavily by the press, and had been remarked upon many a bitter time by Rita Skeeter. Neville had remained on good terms with his best friends, Hermione Granger, an extremely intelligent Muggle-born who was dating his other best friend, Ron Weasley. Neville's grandmother, Augusta Longbottom had not initially approved of Ginny, and the latter still felt uncomfortable and awkward in her presence.

Gloria nodded shakily. "I think I need another drink." she rasped, clutching her glass so tightly her knuckles paled chalk-white as she stalked over to Tobias and Gwenog.

Ginny surveyed the opposing team curiously. They were jostling and pushing each-other about, not being particularly rowdy as they eyed up a few blondes closeted up with tonic waters and gossiping happily. In fact, she couldn't help noticing that some of them were rather good looking. Especially the emerald-eyed one with gravity-resistant, dishevelled jet-black hair. Who was talking to Michael.

Gloria returned, two glasses of Firewhiskey brimming with white froth in her hands. "Drink up, Weasley. You'll be grateful by the end of the night."

"Really, Gloria, I don't drink." Ginny insisted, pushing the glass away. "After seeing what it did to George...I could never put my family through that. Not again. It destroyed them."

Fred Weasley's death had damaged George beyond repair. For the first few months after the Final Battle of Hogwarts, and Neville Longbottom, the Boy-who-Lived's defeat of Lord Voldemort, George had turned to drink to drown his sorrows. He had pushed away his family and surrounded himself in a cloud of drink and depression. He had, however, slowly been brought back to his senses, although he still pined for Fred. However, his wife Angelina Weasley (née Johnson) was helping him restore his life. He had even gone as far as re-opening Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, much to Molly Weasley's both relief and despair.

"Sorry, I didn't think." said Gloria sharply, and shoved the rejected glass into a passer by's hands. "I was stupid."

Ginny smiled wryly. "Never mind that. Now, are you going to talk to Archie or stay here pretending to glare at him all evening?"

Gloria's cheeks flushed a painful carnation-pink. "Shut up, you. So...how're things with the BWL?"

"They're good," Ginny responded shortly, "and please don't call him that. He hates it. Anyone would, really."

"I wouldn't mind being his girlfriend." Gloria announced boldly, downing yet another Firewhiskey without hesitation. "He's cute and he's famous. That gets you instant celebrity status, Ginny."

"I don't want that, and neither does he." Ginny exclaimed irritably. "It's horrible. We can't even decide to make simple decisions like moving in together without having to think about how the media will react. I've already been subjected to three infidelity stories and a bunch of pregnancy crap."

Gloria did not look remotely abashed. "Oh come on," she pestered, "there must be some glamour. Always being envied and admired."

"That's not why I'm with Neville, Gloria," snapped Ginny, who by this time was starting to get annoyed. "I don't give a damn about the Voldemort stuff. Yes, he's pretty amazing, but I love him for who he is, not what he's done."

"Whatever," Gloria brushed off her cutting reply easily and got up. "I'm going to flirt with some of the Falcons to get Archie jealous. Maybe the black-haired one, he's pretty handsome."

Ginny rolled her eyes and ignored the stab of annoyance that bit her as Gloria said this. She wished Neville was there, to talk to, instead of staring gormlessly at Michael, who was chatting animatedly to a couple of rowdy Falcons.

Funnily enough, her pocket grew pleasantly warm against her leg, and she fished the gleaming gold Galleon out from her pocket and grinned. Back in Hogwarts, when Neville, Ron and Hermione had started Dumbledore's Army, Hermione had invented the clever replicas as means of communication for the group without risking being caught by dictator and plain bitch, Dolores Umbridge, who had been inspecting the school that year, poking her snub nose where it wasn't wanted. Years later, she and Neville still used the coins to tell each-other where they were – seeing as Neville had previously been able to set the dates, he could now write little messages instead to her. It was a much better system than those silly Muggle contraptions that they used to communicate with...

Ginny smiled at the coin, and was about to take out her wand and respond when someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder and she whipped round, knocking both of them to the floor as she stumbled over the stranger's unlaced trainers. The next thing she knew, she was staring at a small pool of scarlet which was gushing from her cheek relentlessly.

"I'm sorry." the stranger murmured, before moving swiftly away. She could tell by the colours of his trainers and the strong smell of the Falcons' signature cologne, a foul stench they all soaked themselves in (Gloria had shoved one of her beloved Archie's whiffy jerseys in her face before) that this was one of those egotistical Falcons, and as soon as Gloria had hurriedly helped her up and she'd angrily stopped the heavy bleeding from a gash in her cheek, Ginny scanned the room and immediately marched over to the culprit.

"You arrogant prick!" she hissed at the unabashed, dark-haired man who was staring back at her shamelessly with blood splattered across his hands. She noticed, with further irritation, he was fiddling with bits of tissue from a dispenser instead of listening to her. "Knock me over and run away! Cowardly!"

Something about that man, she realised, seemed familiar, and although she couldn't pinpoint exactly where she knew him from, he certainly seemed to know her.

"For your information, Miss Weasley – yes, I know your name, you're the little lapdog of the Boy-Who-Lived – I was coming over here to get tissues for your cheek...just to mop up the blood. Are all Harpies so judgemental and rude?" the man questioned dryly, brandishing the tissues he had been withdrawing.

"How dare you! You had your stupid laces untied and it was _you _who was standing so bloody close to _me_– which reminds me, why did you tap my shoulder in the first place? And lapdog? Don't make me laugh – you're just some prat who likes to think he can play Quidditch." fired back Ginny, conscious of half the pub watching her.

"So my laces are stupid now, are they?" smirked the man. "As for tapping you, I was only going to inform you that you were about to knock over a large jug of Firewhiskey. Insulting my Quidditch abilities already, when you haven't yet played me? Now that _is _egotistical, Weasley. I look forward to playing your team on Saturday. If you'll excuse me, my girlfriend is waiting."

Ginny scowled at him, her anger subsiding slightly but still a vendetta against him developing. "See, that's not fair. You know my name, but I don't know yours...oh wait...Potter, isn't it? You were in the Daily Prophet only the other day. I seem to remember it was because you threw a tantrum when Mummy cancelled your inheritance...caused quite a stir, actually..."

Potter's cheeks matched her own; he grew a frustrated cinnabar colour. "Watch out, Weasley..."

Ginny snorted loudly and disdainfully before returning to the bar, eyeing the wretched jug of chilled Firewhiskey that had caused all the problems.

"You know what, Tobias? I think I'll take that drink."

* * *

"Ginny, get up."

"Mmmf. Go away."

"Ginny, we've got Quidditch practice."

"I'm sick."

"A hangover does not count as an illness in Gwenog's books. And if she thinks you're slacking a couple of days before the big game, you're in trouble. She's going to be in a bad mood anyway because of all the vodka she downed last night, not to mention Tobias dropped a bombshell. He has a girlfriend!"

"I don't care."

"Don't make me pour water on you, Ginny."

"Okay, okay! I'm up!"

Ginny wrenched open her bleary eyes and yawned melodramatically before padding into the bathroom. "I hate you." she called to Gloria, who was slapping on rouge and examining her pallid face in a small mirror.

"Yeah yeah, you too," murmured Gloria absently, "I wonder if I can use magic to vanish my spots?"

Laughing at her friend's vanity, Ginny hurriedly washed and dressed in her dishevelled Harpies' uniform, grabbing a bottle of Hangover Potion as she Disapparated.

* * *

Rain fell in what felt like tiny explosions of cold droplets. Soon, Ginny was soaked to the skin and could barely make out the Keeper's hoops through the thick, cloudy fog that shrouded the entire pitch.

"Gwenog, let's stop." yelled Gracie Bolt hoarsely, one of the other Chasers. "I can't see the stupid goals and the Snitch is nowhere to be seen. We're all freezing and wet. If this carries on we'll be ill for Saturday and we'll have to cancel the match; in which case the Falcons will never shut up about us being 'scared' to play them."

Ginny fingered a lock of drenched golden-red hair and nodded her agreement. "Plus, everyone's got hangovers. Including you."

Gwenog frowned at her. "I don't need you to point that out, Weasley. Don't forget I'm the captain of this team, and I deserve respect from all of you. All right, we'll stop for today, but that means I'll have to schedule another practice tomorrow – Saturday's two days away, remember!" she shouted deafeningly, voice fighting the roar of the billowing wind. "Dismissed!"

"That was the worst practice ever." muttered Gloria sourly, as they trooped into the Harpies' green-and-gold changing rooms. "Gwenog's in a foul mood and I've got a headache."

"Oh shut it, Gaughley," retorted Gracie sharply, "I saw you drinking six Firewhiskeys last night; you were hammered. Ginny had to Side-Along you, you lazy lump."

Gloria scowled ferociously. "You were off your head as well, I spotted _you _getting friendly with Tobias' best French wine, and not to mention far too cosy with Archie Fagonwheel."

"You mean _your _dirty little secret," interrupted Gracie cruelly, "you were slobbering all over him yesterday. And I do believe you had some kind of pathetic fling with him a few months ago. He told me how you were too clingy."

"Stop it, both of you." barked Gwenog angrily, tugging at her soggy, russet-brown dreadlocks furiously. "Stop being bitchy, Gracie, and you need to learn when to shut up, Gloria."

Ginny exchanged glances with Gianna Holloway, one of her closest friends on the team. She could sense Gianna's discomfort at the heated argument.

"Stay out of it, Jones," shrieked Gloria, agonised, "she as good as called me a slut!"

"Because that's what you are!" countered Gracie harshly, enjoying her opponent's obvious frustration.

"Both of you, _shut it_!" roared Gwenog, just as Gloria lunged at Gracie, hands positioned delicately so they almost resembled claws, and leapt at the Chaser's face, attempting to scratch her.

Ginny immediately stalked over with the others and pulled the two apart from their petty battle, both crimson in the face. Gracie had blood trickling slowly down her face and pooling on the fluffy jade carpet.

"Gloria, what the hell were you thinking?" she whispered desperately in her friend's ear, dragging her over to the hard, electric-green bench. "You could have really hurt her!"

"Good." hissed Gloria lividly, running a hand violently through her tangled caramel-blonde tendrils. "She's a bitch."

"Gloria! You're lucky I don't throw you off this team!" thundered Gwenog, irate. "You stupid, stupid girl! Attacking a teammate! I'm going to have to put this in your season report, _and _ban you from playing on Saturday!"

Gloria groaned sarcastically. "Boo hoo," she spat, tone dripping with contempt, "I don't care for your pathetic threats, Jones. I'm going home."

"To call Mummy, no doubt." jeered Gracie, eyes glinting with malice. She had her wand pointing at her head, presumably keeping the ice-pack the Harpies' first aid team had given her pressed to it without her hands' interference. The small cut once decorating her eyelid had vanished, but traces of dried blood were dotted across her cheekbones.

"Shut up, Gracie." said Ginny, and the other Harpies, nodding, turned their back on the "injured" Chaser and resumed changing. An icy silence swept throughout the changing room as Gloria stormed out to grab her broomstick and Disapparate.

* * *

Afterwards, Ginny felt her pocket heat up, and grimacing, checked it. Sure enough, Neville had sent her a message.

_Meet me at the Hog's Head? I want to ask you something. ~N_

Sighing heavily at the lukewarm coin, Ginny shoved it back into the murky depths of her Harpies' jogging bottoms and resolved to tug a comb through her hair, change, and meet her boyfriend for a Butterbeer, even though all she wanted to do was go home and sleep for a week.

* * *

Neville was nowhere to be seen when she arrived, so Ginny, feeling slightly annoyed, ordered herself a tepid Butterbeer and greeted the foamy amber liquid happily, sipping demurely.

_Here. Where are you? ~G_

After hastily tapping her wand against the coin to send the message, she scanned the pub wearily for signs of her boyfriend. Drawing nothing once again, she braced herself for an awkward dose of small talk with Tobias.

"Young Neville will be here soon, I expect," the bartender (oddly, instead of Tobias, a tall brunette) flashed her a strained smile, drawing attention to the fact it looked as though she had used a whole tube of carnelian lipstick on her lips, too thickly red, "he said he would be."

"Why would he tell you he was coming?" inquired Ginny curiously, eyeing the woman with distaste (just mirroring the woman's own disdainful expression at herself).

"Neville? Oh...oops! That was meant to be a surprise. Never mind. I might as well tell you." smirked the bartender, fiddling slyly with a lock of brassy chestnut hair. "He's going to-"

"Now, now, Roberta, she should really find out herself." Ginny recognised that irritating drawl and whipped around. It was Potter, looking so annoyingly handsome in plain Muggle attire, that stupid black hair of his windswept and firmly upright.

"What do _you _want, Potter?" Ginny demanded, her tone hostile, facing him with her arms tightly folded in indignation. "Come to gloat again?"

"No, Weasley, what do you think of me? I was merely coming to stop Roberta from blurting out your precious boyfriend's little secret." answered Potter smugly, clasping a tonic water in his hand.

"What secret? I suppose you're just going to make some shit up, aren't you?" Ginny retorted bluntly, smiling at his slight surprise when she swore. "Surprised? I thought you thought all Harpies were...exactly that. Harpies."

"Never." replied Potter sarcastically. "Although I _was _interested to find that the story of my parents cutting off my inheritance had reached you, seeing as it never was in the paper, you devilish liar." he almost sang the last two words, and Ginny had to fight back a laugh.

"Well, it may not have been reported by Rita Skeeter at all, but gossip gets round. It happens that Gloria's mother is friends with your own, and she told the whole of the Harpies about your tantrum. Mummy cut you off because you were getting out of hand, did she?" Ginny requested sweetly.

"I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, but then again, I'm not sure of anything when you're around, Weasley. You intrigue me. But no, my mum cut me off because she hates my girlfriend. Not that it's any of your business..."

"Oh yeah...that girl...Chang, isn't it? Cho Chang, I believe. She's on the Tutshill Tornadoes, isn't she?" asked Ginny. "Ah, doomed love, separate teams – which will Potter choose – his girlfriend or his glory? His broomstick or his beauty? His Quidditch or his queen?"

"Funny." Potter remarked dryly. "Ooh, there's something in your pocket. Want to share?"

"No." Ginny replied shortly, scrabbling in her jeans for the wretched coin. Producing it, she smiled at the message.

_Sorry about the delay. Be there soon. ~N_

"Wotcher." Potter exclaimed loudly, pointing behind her exaggeratedly. Foolishly, she turned around, only to find that Potter had snatched the coin from its loose grip in her hand and was reading the message jovially.

"Is this love messages from the Boy-Who-Lived? Oh yeah, we used them in the DA, didn't we?" Potter told himself.

"Wha – you were in the DA?" Ginny repeated incredulously. "You're lying."

"How else would I have known? They didn't exactly want to publish in the Prophet that Dumbledore was building an army, did they? 'Course I was!"

"I don't remember you..." Ginny murmured, racking her brains ruefully.

"I remember you, Ginny Weasley. We used to have a few chats here and there whilst we were at Hogwarts...Anyway...sweet message...he's cute, isn't he?" winked Potter smugly.

"Didn't know he was your style." Ginny laughed derisively. As she spoke, shards of memories pieced themselves together in her mind; she was beginning to remember Potter...

"He's not. But you are." Potter suddenly blurted out. She stared at him in shock.

"What the..."

"I was about to ask that question myself."

Neville. He'd just heard that. She hurriedly turned around, just in time to see her boyfriend thrust a small, velvet, royal-blue box in the back of his jeans and stomp out, slamming the door behind him.

_He was going to propose_. He was going to propose!

And Potter had deliberately upset him to cause an argument.

Ginny turned back, lifted her hand and slapped Harry James Potter as hard as she could around his laughing, triumphant face, before Disapparating to the flat, heart sinking.

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Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed the first installment, and I'm not going to do that "this is my first story so please be nice" rubbish :). I'll do my best to respond to any reviews. (I'd very much appreciate any reviews!)

~GoldenSnidget13


	2. Crossing the Line

**Disclaimer**: All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s) and are in no way connected to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros. The author of the following FanFiction does not in any way profit from the story and it is written solely for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters and their settings is neither claimed nor implied.

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QUICK A/N:  
I want to say a big thank you to all the people who favourited and followed the story and myself – especially to the reviewers. Since I can't reply to the anonymous reviews, I'll do it here:

Guest: Yes, in a few reviews people have mentioned Harry being an "arsehole", and I'll explain the thinking behind that now – I think with James Potter bringing him up (and Sirius Black as a godfather) Harry would be quite the jerk, even what I might call a "mini-Marauder". It's difficult to explain, but the Harry we know is a much more sensitive boy than the one I'm painting. I hope you find this reason good enough.

whatisfake: I'm really, really glad you like it! It means a lot that you took out the time to review, as well. I can see how Harry might appear slightly similar to Malfoy, actually, but don't worry, he's not going to be anything like Draco if I can help it.  
As for Neville, yes, a few people were also wondering about his behaviour – my Neville isn't going to be a bad guy – he's going to be different, yes, having suffered from a life in the spotlight, and not as sweet and overly-sensitive as he was in the books, because I don't ever see Neville being that way. I think H/G have a very strong connection and I don't need him being one of the "bad-guys" to justify their relationship. I agree about Ginny, I think she's feisty, strong, passionate and a perfect soulmate for Harry – I've just never liked her with anyone except Harry, especially not Neville.

Well, on with the story!

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Chapter Two: Crossing the Line

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"...so, really, Nev, it was nothing. I don't even know Potter that well, and I wouldn't want to."

Ginny had been rasping into the musty, unpleasantly-flaking black fireplace of her flat for the past hour, doing her best to assure Neville that nothing had happened between her and Harry Potter whatsoever. As sharp daggers of pain stabbed her neck from the uncomfortable position of croaking into warm emerald flames on her knees, her tolerance decreased.

"I'm sorry I overreacted, then." said Neville quietly, his voice softening. "Your throat sounds sore. Do you want something for it? I can whip up a potion for you if you'd like, I've got some remedial-herbs in my supplies."

"No, that's really okay," Ginny hastened to reply, "I've already been forced to drink a Soothing potion for my throat, and I'm meant to be taking some Muggle tablets every hour. I should probably rest."

"If you're sure." Neville's tone was crisp as he replied, and Ginny watched dismally as he frowned around the room, as though it had done him a great personal wrong. "I'll come and see you later on, then? If that's okay." there was a slight edge to his voice, and Ginny was getting increasingly irritated with his hostility.

"Fine with me." she muttered, perhaps too coldly. "But don't sulk about what happened yesterday. It was Potter being an arse." although the words longed to slip easily off her tongue, she said nothing about the proposal that she now knew had been coming. If possible, she wanted to avoid that subject because the discussion it would lead to would be unbearable.

Even the concept made her shudder.

"Bye, Neville." Ginny flashed her boyfriend a wan smile and withdrew from the fireplace, coughing as more ebony-coloured dust peppered her hair and throat.

She wasn't as ill as she had convinced Gloria (who was glowering as she changed into her Harpies' uniform, grumbling about bitchy substitutes and having to go in even on mornings when she was being subjected to watching, not playing). In fact, her itchy, inflamed throat was most likely curable with a few drops of Neville's special herbal medicine, but it gave her an excuse to work out exactly what she was going to do.

As for missing practice, she was touched with guilt until Gwenog had owled her to inform the Chaser that she would be expected for extra training the day after while the other players got a day off, in the likely event she was feeling better. (And if not, Ginny got the implied instruction she was to come along anyway, even though it was a Harpies' tradition to rest the day before a match).

She had just opened a magazine and started to skim across the brightly-splashed bubbles, gloating about the new _Bronzer 2050 _when an attractive snowy owl came swooping out of the turquoise stretch roaming across the atmosphere and launched itself _into _the window, smashing straight through it to land in a heap on the floor, feebly stirring in the mass of glass shards.

Her first reaction was to scream in shock and fright before stumbling to the owl's aid, carefully scooping it up from where it had lay on the floor, one wing flapping pathetically, to nestle it closely in her freckled arms and inspect it for any fatalities.

Suddenly, one amber eye flickered open. Then its partner did the same. The owl, whom Ginny had miserably presumed half-dead, picked itself up to perch delicately on her arm, beak occupied with a cream-coloured, thick envelope that Ginny cautiously removed from its mouth, brow furrowed.

"Whoever sent this is paying for a new window." she said impatiently, glaring at the broken glass that was coating her favourite crimson rug. "And I'm reporting them to whatever animal cruelty associations I can find."

Ripping open the envelope to reveal a thick, clearly expensive piece of parchment, Ginny inhaled sharply as her eyes firstly locked on the sender's name.

_Weasley,_

_Friend of mine told me you're not in today. I thought I'd pop round your flat. However, I thought it'd be more polite to send Hedwig first, so you can send your reply back to her, she'll find me. Hope you don't mind -_

_Potter_

_P.S. Yes, I know where you live._

_P.P.S. Oh, give Hedwig a few treats, would you? I think she deserves them after that entrance._

Furiously, Ginny tore the blasted letter into small shreds and glared at the owl ferociously.

"I suppose he told you to break my window, did he?" she scowled, massaging her throat in annoyance. "Well you can go straight back to your master, wherever that git is, and tell him he owes me twenty Galleons and thirteen Sickles, which I'd better get before tomorrow."

Hedwig (Ginny assumed that was her name, anyway), who had previously been cleaning her now filthy wing, stared inquisitively up at her, blinking those annoyingly beautiful topaz pools repeatedly.

"I'll write it then, shall I? I suppose I'd better feed you, seeing as your owner probably doesn't." Ginny sighed exasperatedly, and, careful not to tread on the sharp glass shards that were ingrained in the carpet, trotted over to the cupboard where Gloria's owl treats were, tossing a few onto the kitchen counter and gesturing to the owl reluctantly.

_Potter,_

_You owe me, not twenty Galleons, thirteen Sickles, (as the window cost) but fifty Galleons. Twenty for creating an unnecessary problem with me and Neville. Get your sorry arse over to my flat before I set your bloody owl on you._

_~Ginny_

She found herself smiling at Hedwig, admiring the honeysuckle-white feathers that coated the satisfied bird (having scoffed all of the owl treats and begun to peck at an apple that was sitting on the counter).

"What am I thinking? This is Potter's bird," she hissed to herself sharply. "Hedwig, I've got a letter for you."

The snowy owl clicked its beak in response before flapping over to Ginny and nabbing the note from her hand. "Take it to Potter, please."  
Obligingly, Hedwig dodged the icicle-like glass pieces that hung from the window and soared off into the horizon, presumably to wherever Potter was.

Sighing at the mess, Ginny quickly mussed up her hair so it looked slightly dishevelled and used her wand to scatter tissues across the room, before thrusting herself onto the sofa, a soft tartan blanket her shield.

Coincidentally, as she was just settling back onto the sofa, coughing excessively from the dust that had decided to settle inside her mouth and taste rancid, there was an unpleasantly loud _crack_, and Potter, looking very pleased with himself, was standing pompously in the middle of the remains of her window.

Ginny couldn't help but notice that he was irritatingly good-looking. The round, shiny glass plates that shielded his eyes emphasised the jade glinting in them, and his hair was looking even more windswept than her own. This also annoyed her.

"Well _really _Weasley," he snorted, staring at the broken glass in amusement, "Were you just trying to cheat me out of my money? _Reparo._"

Ginny felt her heart sink as she stared at her own wand in dismay, having been outsmarted by Potter once again. "You have some nerve almost killing your owl to send me some pointless letter."

"Hedwig's actually got a tendency to break things," shrugged Potter, "so I told her if she wanted to make an entrance, she could break through the window without me having to pay for anything, than if she'd broken your face, say."

Ginny flushed. "And what would your girlfriend have to say about this then? The brat of the Tutshill Tornadoes, I've heard. Had a tantrum when the match started without her, as she slapped on lipstick."

"You don't know her," answered Potter simply, grinning. "Why are you so interested?"

"Because I hate silly boys that cat around their girlfriends for the fun of it." retorted Ginny, her voice exaggeratedly throaty.

"I'm assuming you're not in today because of your...'illness'," smirked Potter, scanning the room, eyes catching on the clean tissues that were decorating the floor. "You see, I sent a gift to make up for what I did to your training ground but got it sent back by a very angry Gwenog Jones who told me, in a Howler of course, you weren't in today and even if you were you'd never be seen with a Foulmouth Falcon."

"She was right." snapped Ginny furiously. "And I don't want your stinking presents. I can't be bought."

"So how does the Boy-Who-Lived impress you then?" questioned Potter. "I suppose he showers you in affection, does he? Looked like it when _he _threw a tantrum yesterday."

"You shut up about Neville," Ginny countered angrily, "he's a much better man than you are. Speaking of him, you'd better get out of my flat before he comes over."

"Well, now I'm definitely not leaving." said Potter, with a cheeky grin that infuriated Ginny.

"Get _out_!" she yelled, as loud as possible without damaging her throat. "Get the hell out!"

Potter lifted his wand up lazily, and flicked it at the door, murmuring something barely audible. "_Muffliato_."

"That was from Neville's book," said Ginny suspiciously, eyeing him with distaste, "Snape's book..."

"You learn a few things. Longbottom happened to leave the book in his dorm once, lying on the bed, so I might have flicked through it." Potter confessed unabashedly. "So, scream all you like now, Weasley."

"I will." she growled. "Unbelievable. No wonder Neville was so upset yesterday, he must've recognised you from Hogwarts and known your reputation with snogging other boys' girlfriends."

"Of course, we haven't actually snogged yet." winked Potter, who had grown tired of standing now and perched himself on the edge of the sofa.

"There's no yet." Ginny objected immediately. "We never have, and never will."

"You know...the Boy-Who-Lived's story isn't all that special." Potter declared, sweeping his wand in the direction of the kitchen cabinets, causing a jug of icy Butterbeer to zoom out and pour itself into a glass.

"Pray tell." Ginny returned, snatching the glass as it made its way towards Potter and taking a ginger sip instead.

"Well, Voldemort murders his parents and then goes upstairs to finish him. He tries to kill him, he dies. End of." Potter answered, mock-glaring at Ginny's drink.

"It's not that simple." said Ginny. "Yes, Voldemort died as soon as he tried to kill Nev, but that's not it. Neville lost both his parents. He's never known them. Can't you see? And he's had to put up with bitches like Rita Skeeter writing up his life story, except adding in all these extra bits, changing his reputation to nothing. He's an ordinary boy that wants an ordinary life. And even so, that isn't why I'm with Neville. At first, I had a bit of a hero-crush on him, but then I met him properly through Ron and that developed into something more."

"What a heartfelt story." said Potter dismissively. "You know, I like you, Weasley. You're funny and you've got spirit. That said, I can also see why Neville picked _you_, because you're a true beauty."

Ginny, whose face was now flushed carmine, glared at Potter. "You're not my boyfriend. You have no right to flirt with Neville's girlfriend just because you're jealous of his fame, when you're just a trust-fund brat. Now, get out of my flat before I kick your arse."

"As delightful as that sounds, I'll leave then." Potter agreed. "But I'm looking forward to seeing you again. You know, I used to see you in the Hogwarts library and watch you, thinking you were far prettier than any of the other girls."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," was Ginny's dry response, "now get out of my flat."

"Cho used to get quite upset about it," reminisced Potter cheerfully, "but then again, I did catch her snogging Michael Corner in fifth year-"

Ginny, who had been about to inform Potter that she had no concern in his petty girlfriend affairs, choked on her Butterbeer, spluttering and coughing amber droplets over the carpet.

"_What_?" she shrieked, staring at him in shock.

"Yeah, I never made it public though...Corner begged me not to, said he had a girlfriend of his own or something. He promised to make it up to me, and he did. When I got banned from Hogsmeade for detentions, he used to buy half of Honeydukes just to keep me quiet. I forgave Cho, obviously. To be honest, I wasn't that bothered-"

"You disgusting little low-down jerk," shrilled Ginny. "You knew Corner was cheating on me and you _never even said_. You're a lousy, pathetic excuse for a man!"

Ginny had dated Corner briefly in fifth year, and then for a short while after the battle before rekindling the flame with Neville. Although their relationship had been rocky, she'd never doubted his loyalty, and so this came as an unpleasant shock.

"Oh – _you _were Corner's girlfriend." Potter smirked. "I never even knew."

"You did, Potter, don't try to deny it! Get the hell out," shouted Ginny, her wand now withdrawn and inches from his cheekbone.

He did.

Ginny collapsed back onto the expensive cream sofa, her mind reeling. She now had only one thing on her mind; revenge. Just not Potter's spiteful revenge. Her own little dose of Fred-and-George style revenge.

It was then, as she lay, plotting revenge, that there was a soft _whoosh _and appeared her boyfriend, looking suitably happy and dressed, surprisingly, in a suit, a lily, Ginny's favourite flower, tucked into his breast pocket.

He turned around, as Ginny watched in both horror and anticipation, and silently banished the discarded tissues, Butterbeer stains, owl feathers and owl-treat crumbs, replacing them with dozens of ivory-white lily petals that floated elegantly to the carpet, settling in a blanket of white.

Neville faced her.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley...I love you...and I hope that you love me...so I'm asking...with all my heart...will you marry me?" and he got down on one knee, struggling in the too-small ebony-black suit, before producing the ugliest ring Ginny had seen in all her life, studded lavishly with large diamonds and a showy amethyst in the centre, glinting magenta maliciously at her.

"Will you? Will you marry me?"

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed this instalment, and constructive criticism is always welcomed and appreciated. I also hope the A/N at the start cleared up any confusion – there will be more on Harry, Ginny and Neville's Hogwarts lives in the upcoming chapters, as well as a full explanation of what happened with Voldemort and Neville._

~GoldenSnidget13


	3. Decisions, Decisions

Disclaimer: All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s) and are in no way connected to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros. The author of the following FanFiction does not in any way profit from the story and it is written solely for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters and their settings is neither claimed nor implied.

Chapter Three – Decisions, Decisions

* * *

Obviously I can't actually reply to anonymous reviews, so I'll do it here:

**Fernanda** - thank you so much! I'm really glad you're enjoying it, and thanks for your detailed feedback. I'm also glad you like Harry's personality - I have to agree with you about saying that he's sexier! I hate Cho as well - honestly, I think she's a dreadful character, and everything about her annoys me - as for Ginny taking her place...well...I wouldn't want to give too much away...but...well...I'm not denying it!  
Harry's Hogwarts life, as hopefully you'll see in this chapter, will be unravelled throughout the story. Anyway, thanks again for reviewing and I hope you like this chapter! I_ love _long reviews, so don't apologise!

**Question **- well, I get the whole "angsty-drawn-out crap" might not be your cup of tea, and I appreciate how annoying it is when people just pointlessly carry on the story, but there have only been two (now three) chapters, and I don't want to rush the story. If you "don't bother" than I'm sorry about that, but this is my story and it's going to be my length. Thanks for reviewing, though.

On with the story!

* * *

She could only stare at that mesmerisingly-large ring, gleaming so brightly in the dimmest of lights Ginny was reminded of the gold plates at Hogwarts. That disgustingly huge diamond sat comfortably on the silver band, and when she pictured it on her finger, Ginny's stomach churned and she clenched her sweat-drenched palms together.

"Neville, I'm sorry," she began slowly, her voice letting her down, coming out as a thin rasp, "but I'm just not ready for engagement, let alone marriage right now..."

"Why?" Neville's face was contorted with both frustration and disappointment, flushed shell-pink and gradually colouring crimson. "You love me, and I love you..."

"We've been going out for seven months, Nev," Ginny explained miserably, fighting the urge to slam that loathsome brown leather box shut, "I'm tied in to my contract with the Harpies, it's too soon to be thinking about disrupting that for a wedding, changing my name...getting married...it's not a small thing, Nev. I'm sorry."

Neville, however, didn't look sorry. He looked...well...livid.

"Hermione said this would happen," he muttered, "and I didn't listen, kept insisting you love me, like a fool..."

"You discussed this with Hermione?" Ginny inquired quietly, staring at him with something more than disbelief.

"Yes," said Neville, "why? She's my best friend, unlike that Potter guy that's been dogging you, according to Roberta at the Hog's Head-"

"And you discuss our relationship with this Roberta then?" demanded Ginny furiously. "And I have _not _been fraternising with that Falcon! So your proposal was to ask me to marry you and then start accusing me of ridiculous things?"

"Did he come by the flat today, then?" said Neville angrily, stumbling up from one knee and granting Ginny's wish, shoving the ring roughly into his jacket pocket.

"How did you know that?" asked Ginny, irate, as he suddenly appeared abashed.

"I...that doesn't matter. You invite your little friend round, and tell your boyfriend not to come because...you're _sick_," Neville mimicked, pitching his voice to a falsetto.

"I did _not _invite him! And if you don't tell me how you knew that, I'm going to ask you to leave _right now_," yelled Ginny, her temper finally overtaking her common sense, topaz orbs wide, the anger in them legible.

"His wretched owl came bursting into the Hog's Head where I was having a drink with Hermione. I read your letter to him over his shoulder." Neville mumbled, his hands joining the ring as he tossed them into his pocket. "Not that this matters, Ginny, you told me you had nothing to do with him. It's just lies, lies, lies with you, isn't it?"

"You're accusing _me _of lying?" said Ginny softly, her own hands beginning to tremble, ivory-white and clenched. "So you weren't lying when you just said you loved me? Because if you did, you wouldn't be saying these things."

"Yes, I would." said Neville defiantly. "Who's always been there for you? Who's never let anything happen to you? I think it's _you, _yes _you,_who's been doing the lying. You don't love me, Ginny, and don't pretend you do. If you did, you would've accepted my proposal on the spot. I'm sorry I snooped, I truly am, but I can't pretend any more that we feel the same way. Either you love me or you don't."

Her own tears soaked her eyes as she answered, coughing. "Neville, don't do this. All this anger you've been bottling up for months now, because our relationship has been falling apart now for ages. Potter has pushed you over the edge. I know I've not been as attentive and caring as I should have been, and maybe too caught up with my placement on the Harpies, but fame has changed you. All these covers splashed over the Prophet just proves it."

"My fame has nothing to do with this," Neville argued, "unless that's the only reason you're with me...for my fame..."

"I'm not that girl anymore." Ginny replied, closing her eyes so that the lukewarm tears finally spilled, dribbling down her cheeks. "I'm with you because I really do love you." but even as she said it, doubt dripped from each word like the tears pooling on the warm carpet.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have got worked up about this proposal." murmured Neville. "I'll go."

Ginny nodded. She let him, and the surprising thing was...she felt nothing when he did.

* * *

"I'm really sorry, Ginny," Hermione looked shamefacedly down into her half-empty coffee mug, "I told him it was a bad idea, but I should've insisted, or at least warned you."

It was just over an hour later, eight 'o' clock, and once again Ginny found herself in the dimly-lit, warm surroundings of the Hog's Head, this time accompanied by Hermione Granger.

"It's not your fault, Hermione." smiled Ginny, clasping her own drink tightly as she watched her friend sigh. "Neville and I have been rocky lately. I should have seen it coming...in fact, I did. He was going to do a public proposal in the Hog's Head but Harry Potter turned up and blew the whole thing up. Actually, I'm kind of grateful for that. Not that I'll ever tell him."

"So, what's going on with him, anyway?" inquired Hermione conversationally, nibbling at gingerbread, spreading crumbs over the lacy tablecloth of the Hog's Head.

"Well, apparently he's been gossiping about his plans with me to that awful bartender, Roberta." Ginny explained, gesturing to where the heavily-made-up brunette was half-heartedly mopping the counter. "And Neville's caught on to that. But honestly, I really don't like him. He's completely destroyed things between Neville and I."

"Well, don't be so sure," said Hermione, frowning, "you just said yourself things have been rocky with Neville for a while. Maybe he just helped, but the problems were always there."

"You're right, as usual." grinned Ginny, abandoning her coffee, having silently deemed it "rubbery froth". "How's things with my oaf of a brother?"

"Things are great," beamed Hermione, sipping daintily at the tepid maroon liquid, "in fact...well, I suppose telling _you _can't hurt. Ron's earning a much better salary as an Auror, now, and...we've decided to buy a bigger place. Just don't tell Molly, will you, because it's a lot bigger than the flat, and you know how she's always fussing about savings. I mean that in the most affectionate way, obviously."

Ginny nodded vigorously. "Hermione, I lived with the woman for eighteen years. I understand, believe me."

"Here comes trouble." whistled Hermione subtly, staring into her coffee.

A feeling of dread welling up inside her stomach, Ginny turned around to see the smug features of Harry Potter pointed right at her from his seat at the bar, where he was chewing from a plate decorated with two cheese-sandwich crusts, the leftovers of some crisps and a Cauldron Cake.

"Don't even remind me." said Ginny, groaning. "I'll bet he's got some new plot to stir up things with me and Neville!"

"Has it ever occurred to you," suggested Hermione devilishly, "that he might be doing all this because he likes you-" she paused with a wicked grin at Ginny's look of horror, "- and wants attention?"

"No." she said quickly. "He's doing it because he's had it in for me ever since I yelled at him and called him an arrogant jerk or whatnot on Wednesday in front of the rest of his snotty team."

"If you say so," said Hermione, dumping her own coffee mug down on the damp wood. "Ginny, what are you going to do about Neville?"

"I don't know," answered Ginny truthfully, staring at the dregs of Hermione's drink, kneading her thumbs, "I love him, Hermione, you know I do...but he's just so different from how he was at Hogwarts. It's like he's a changed person. I'm not saying I want to break up, but I can't get engaged to him. I'm not ready."

Hermione nodded. "I'll speak to him, if you'd like," she offered kindly, "but say if you don't want me to, I don't want to interfere in your relationship."

Ginny smiled gratefully. "I'd love that," she agreed hastily, "I hate the feeling that he's upset...I just _definitely _don't want the story getting into the Prophet. Can you imagine the headlines?"

Hermione grimaced. "That would _not _be good," she said in agreement, gesturing to a nearby Roberta to take their finished drinks away, "but only you, me and Neville know. So there's no danger there."

"No danger of what, Weasley?"

Ginny swore at the nauseating sound of her rival's voice, slowly craning her neck around to see Potter grinning triumphantly at her, clutching a small piece of Cauldron Cake.

"Go away." she said rudely, glaring at him with such intensity that he was forced to retreat a few steps.

"Hostile, aren't we?" he retorted. "Hey, Granger, you wouldn't give us a few minutes?" he questioned Hermione, who was both alarmed and surprised at the same time.

She glanced at a frantically-gesturing Ginny.

"I'd rather not." she told him quietly. "You're not Ginny's favourite person, and I'm not inclined to sentence her to a 'few minutes' of torture."

Ginny smiled with relief and murmured her thanks before drawing her wand, the smooth hazel stroking her fingers.

"Get out of my way before I hex you into oblivion, Potter," she growled, "or I tell your little girlfriend exactly what you've been up to."

"That doesn't scare me," said Potter lazily, "Cho's been tiptoeing around Fagonwheel for weeks now, thinking I haven't got a clue. If she says anything I'll bring him up."

"You _haven't _got a clue," replied Ginny disgustedly, "honestly, what do you see in her?"

"She annoys my mother," explained Potter, unashamedly, "and also-"

"-gives you something to come home to, I suppose?" finished Hermione dryly.

"I like your friend," said Potter, glancing at Hermione amusedly, "she's going out with that ginger Cannons supporter, isn't she? I've seen him in here a couple of times, great guy, honestly-"

"Shut up." interrupted Ginny. "He's my brother, just so you know, so stay away from him. And also...if you don't move out of the way, I'll be forced to inflict some kind of potentially grievous spell on you, and you won't be fit to be beaten mercilessly by the Harpies tomorrow. Just so you know."

Potter chuckled amiably. "I love you, Weasley," he smirked, "you really are one of a kind. But if the Falcons are beaten by the worst team since the Chudley Cannons, I'll-"

"-jump off a cliff?" suggested Ginny hopefully, causing Hermione to shoot her a horrified look.

"Let's have ourselves a bet." proclaimed Potter excitedly. "If the Harpies win, I'll stop stalking you and leave you and the BWL alone."

"Sounds good to me." muttered Ginny darkly.

"...but, if the Falcons win," continued Potter, "I get to snog you."

As Ginny choked on the last of her gingerbread, trying desperately to splutter out "No way in hell", Hermione piped up.

"What if you draw?"

"In the unlikely event that happens," grinned Potter evilly as he thumped her on the back lightly, "she snogs me _and _has to go on a double-date with me and Archie Fagonwheel, choosing the girl of her choice to bring for Archie. Deal?"

"No." spat Ginny angrily, swatting away his hands. "How is that fair? You win twice. I win once!"

"If you're so sure the Harpies will win," shrugged Potter, "what's the matter? Of course, if you'd rather I just kept following you and disrupting your personal life, go ahead-"

"Deal."

Begrudgingly, she stretched out her hand, and shook his, trying her best not to feel any kind of reaction, her teeth tightly clenched.

"Wait a second," said Potter, as Ginny pulled away and started to get up from her seat. "How do I know you will actually go through with the deal?"

Ginny grimaced – she had been hoping that he wasn't going to realise that. She looked at Hermione for help.

"Ginny always keeps her word," Hermione piped up hurriedly.

"Hmm," Potter said thoughtfully, "sweet, Granger, but not quite enough to convince me. How's about if she doesn't comply with the rules, I have words with Longbottom?"

"That's blackmail." snapped Ginny angrily. "If you so much as look at Neville, I'll make sure you'll never be able to reproduce."

Potter laughed. Hermione appeared both appalled and amused, stifling giggles behind her hand.

"Classy." Potter smirked. "Okay, I'll take your word for it, Weasley, but just so you know, if the Falcons win I won't stop dogging you until you kiss me."

Ginny swore under her breath and turned to face him, her own face contorted with annoyance. "Oh shut it, Potter. You're all talk."

"Don't be so sure." winked Potter. "We'll, I've got to go, seeing Cho actually…I think she's planning on dumping me and running off with Archie Fagonwheel."

"And that doesn't bother you at all?" retorted Ginny sarcastically, one eyebrow raised.

"Nope." he answered truthfully. "To be honest, I'm getting a bit sick of her anyway. She's so indiscreet, and yet thinks I have no idea about her many affairs with members of the Falcons."

"Yes, well, we've got better things to do than listen to sordid tales of your pathetic little life," Ginny declared suddenly, "bye, Hermione, and thanks for everything."

Hermione, who was trying fruitlessly to hide a smirk, nodded and got up as well.

As Ginny swept out of the Hog's Head, muttering to herself, Potter rounded on Hermione, who immediately appeared both alarmed and suspicious.

"Let's have words, Granger," he said quietly, and she backed away hastily. "About your friend Weasley. I've got a few questions…"

* * *

It was past eleven when Ginny returned to her flat, and she couldn't help feeling confused. It had been what felt like ages since she had been at Hogwarts, fighting in the Final Battle and losing Fred…  
But what really got her was that she couldn't really remember Harry Potter. True, she now, looking back, could recall a few incidents where he would talk to her (he was slightly less blunt back then) but they'd not had much to do with one-another – they were in separate years, and although both in Gryffindor, she'd just stayed away from him.

Although, there was one incident that sprung to mind as she racked her brains…

* * *

_'Good book you've got there. Especially when you're a dunce like me at Herbology.'_

_Ginny whipped around, her whole body on edge after his irritating voice ripped through her daydreams. She'd just been flicking through an old Herbology textbook, hoping to find a section on Venomous Tentacula. She had regrettably been busy chatting to Luna during the lesson instead of listening to Professor Sprout's babbling, and was paying for it as she failed to comprehend any of the set homework. Plus, she was pretty sure approaching Neville (who she knew from Ron was excellent at Herbology) would be pointless, seeing as she found herself speechless in his presence._

_'Oh yeah? Doesn't seem that great to me,' she retorted, skimming through it lazily, 'it's about as informative as a Chocolate Frog card.'_

_Potter was standing there, his hands shoved into his pockets, and flashing her a sturdy grin. Her first instinct had been to be rude – Neville and Ron had agreed about how arrogant he was when she was making hot chocolate (NOT eavesdropping!) at the Burrow – but something about those piercing green eyes stopped her. Besides, she'd barely spoken to him yet. And Ron was not always the best judge of character._

_'Ginny Weasley, right?' Potter asked suddenly, smiling. His smile seemed genuinely sincere, so she nodded curtly and returned to the book, although in all honesty it was a complete waste of ink._

_'Ron Weasley's baby sister?' he continued._

_Now he'd gone too far. Ginny felt her hackles rise and she sharply turned and glared at him, eyes blazing._

_'Watch who you're calling baby, Potter,' she snapped furiously._

_'Feisty one you are.' he answered, unfazed by her rudeness._

_'Oh shut it.' she growled, shoving the book back on the shelf. 'Go snog Romilda Vane or something.'_

_To Ginny's surprise, he began laughing, and she couldn't help smiling herself at the thought. Romilda Vane was the school's most notorious man-eater and ridiculously attached to two boys – Harry and Neville. Neither of them had ever paid her much attention – Neville was too busy being enamoured with Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff, much to Ginny's distaste. She didn't give a damn what Harry thought about Romilda, but then again she'd only seen him around a few times, and never spoken to him. Ron had told the whole family (probably exaggerated) tales of the boys in his dormitory, and Potter hadn't come off too well._

_But then he had to go and ruin the nice moment._

_'Why don't you go and snog Longbottom? I've seen you drooling over him like a three-headed dog.'_

_She felt her cheeks erupt in scarlet, and stalked out of the library, leaving that arrogant toerag behind. If only she hadn't made such a fool out of herself when she first met Neville – maybe, just maybe – he might have liked her._

* * *

Her cheeks now flooded with colour at the sheer memory. It was true, she had spotted him nearby in the library a couple of times throughout the years, and had been slightly unnerved by it, but had mostly been too busy trying to fight her feelings for Neville as he showed no interest in her at that time.

Neville's story had clearly not impressed Potter. Ginny herself, at age four, had been very interested in little Neville Longbottom's story of triumph over Lord Voldemort.

It had so happened that a prophecy was cast, by Sybil Trelawney, witnessed by only Albus Dumbledore, and later revealed Severus Snape. Snape had reported his findings of a young boy, born as the seventh month dies, who would have the power to defeat Lord Voldemort. So Voldemort had gone to find the Longbottoms.

He killed Alice and Frank Longbottom easily, but found fault when he tried to kill Neville. For Alice had stood between the two and had sacrificed herself to save her son – Neville was invincible to Voldemort – and so when the latter cast the Killing Curse, it backfired and took his own life instead.

But more was to come for Neville. Voldemort's Death Eaters remained in power and stopped at nothing to get vengeance. They had attempted to steal the Philosopher's Stone in first year in an attempt to make themselves immortal, but were thwarted by Ron, Neville and Hermione. The following year Lucius Malfoy had made a claim on Ginny's life by throwing the diary of Tom Riddle (Voldemort) into her clutches, yet was once again defeated by Neville.  
Third year, a Death Eater escaped from prison and attempted to break into Hogwarts multiple times, trying to kidnap Neville.  
Fourth year, Neville was entered by an imposter to the Goblet of Fire and scraped through, only to be captured by Peter Pettigrew and Lucius Malfoy, who tortured him for information on the Order of the Phoenix and killed his teammate, Cedric Diggory.  
Fifth year, the Death Eaters, still free and on the run, murdered Neville's grandmother to try and lure him into their clutches.  
Sixth year, Neville found a book once belonging to Severus Snape, containing suspicious and dark spells that aided him yet also wound him into trouble. With the help of Draco Malfoy, many Death Eaters broke into the school and murdered Albus Dumbledore.  
And finally, his seventh year, Neville, Ron and Hermione went on the run to capture the remaining Death Eaters, resulting in a huge Final Battle, the destruction of Hogwarts (which was thankfully rebuilt) and the captures and deaths of not only all the Death Eaters, but many Hogwarts students…including Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks.

And now it was all over, she had her hero, her career, and her family…but she wasn't happy.

But why?

Neville was sweet and caring. He had an aptitude for Herbology and was forever surpising her with his favourite flowers or plants. Although his only family left was his Great-Uncle Algie, he got on very well with the Weasleys, even George (though of course, he had first befriended them through Ron, which meant they knew him well enough to find peace with his relationship with Ginny).

But sometimes, he could be difficult, and find fault with everything she did. True, they weren't a perfect couple, but they'd been through a lot.

Though now, she had to ask herself if that was a good enough reason to stay together.

She knew what Luna would say. "Ginny, your head's simply _full _of Wrackspurts," and they'd laugh. Maybe that was why she missed Luna so much, for her easy answers. But she was on a Crumple-Horned-Snorkack-hunting trip, and wouldn't be back for another two weeks.

She eventually made herself a hot chocolate and sipped it thoughtfully, trying to decide what to do. On one hand, she hated hurting Neville – and especially as he would think it was down to Potter, which it wouldn't be – but then again, she was getting to grips with the fact that maybe she had grown out of him.

"Ginny?"

Her heart rammed her hard in the chest and resumed its steady beating as she jumped, whipping round to face Neville's slightly distorted face in the Floo. Emerald flames were licking his hair and skin.  
"Hermione talked to me," he said humbly, as she carefully knelt down to face him. "I'm sorry about everything – for pressuring you, for being accusatory…it was stupid of me."

"No, it wasn't." said Ginny miserably, knowing what was coming. "But we have to talk, Neville..."

His smile faltered even in the dim jade light of the Floo.

"I hate dragging you along." she carried on. "And I think we both need to accept that maybe we just don't feel the same way any more. I don't love you…well, I do, but as my good friend, not as a boyfriend. I…I think we need to spend some time apart."

"You're dumping me?" Neville echoed, shocked. "But…I thought…"

"We're not in love." Ginny explained wryly. "I can't lie to myself. Sorry, Neville…but it's over."

"It's Potter, isn't it?" said Neville bitterly. "You fancy him and you're dumping poor little old me so you can go gallivanting off with that idiot…well fine, but don't come crying to me when you become one in a list of many."

"I have no intention of ever dating Harry Potter." Ginny snapped angrily. "Face it, Neville, you're using excuses. You know that's bulls-"

But Neville had withdrawn his round face from the warm fire.

Just as she was about to retire to bed, there was a sudden loud, impatient rapping noise at her window. With a jolt, she realised it was Hedwig.

And she was carrying a letter.

* * *

~this means nothing, I know, but I'm sorry about the wait…I won't bombard you with stupid excuses, but thanks for your loyal readerships.

The next chapter will be posted soon. In the meantime, if anyone has any good Harry/Ginny fics they'd recommend, that'd be great, as I can't seem to find any I haven't already read. Anyway, thanks, and as always, I'll reply to any reviews ASAP.

~GoldenSnidget13


	4. Harpies vs Falcons

**Disclaimer**: All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s) and are in no way connected to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros. The author of the following FanFiction does not in any way profit from the story and it is written solely for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters and their settings is neither claimed nor implied.

Chapter Four – Harpies vs Falcons

* * *

_'Hi, Ginny. How are you?'_

_She felt her cheeks warm uncomfortably and blood seep slowly inside them as they reddened. Neville was talking to her. And it was both humiliating and exciting at the same time._

_'I'm f-fine, thanks.' she answered quietly, trying not to tremble as she looked him straight in the eye._

_'Good. Have you seen Ron? Only, he was meant to meet me here but I've not seen him since lunch.'_

_Of course. He wouldn't be talking to her because he wanted to, oh no. Just because of Ron._

_She sighed. 'Um, no…s-sorry. I think he's with Hermione somewhere.'_

_'Oh.' Neville paused as the atmosphere became clouded with awkwardness. 'Well, thanks.'_

_Ginny nodded and turned away, shoving her heavily-freckled nose inside a random Muggle Studies textbook that had been lying on the edge of the library desk. She had made a fool of herself, again! Blushing like that…what was she thinking?_

_'Oi, Weasley. Having a heart attack because Nev spoke to you?'_

_Ginny whipped round, heart thumping erratically, to see Harry Potter nestled comfortably in a beanbag, clutching a dog-eared, yellowing copy of The Dream Oracle and obviously too bored to keep reading._

_'What's it to you?' she demanded bravely, eyeing him suspiciously. 'Do you fancy him or something?'_

_'Yes.' said Potter sarcastically. 'That's why I've got a girlfriend?'_

_'Just the one then?' countered Ginny quickly, 'last time I checked it was two…or maybe three?'_

_Potter grinned. 'See you, Weasley.' chuckling loudly, he walked off in the direction of some giggling fourth-year girls._

_Ginny, sighing to herself, sat back down again and tried to lose herself in the Muggle Studies book. But it was no use. All that was going round her mind was Neville, Neville, Neville…_

* * *

Gasping for breath, Ginny woke up in a cold sweat, her face sticky and damp. Shuddering, she padded over to the bathroom to wash. Already she could hear Gloria singing as the latter brushed her clump of caramel-blonde hair, most of the lyrics being profanities or mumbled words Ginny couldn't make out.

The remains of Harry Potter's letter were still nestled inside the bin where she'd thrown them after tearing the letter to shreds. It hadn't consisted of much, just a few crude words about her dumping Neville and something quite suggestive.

She knotted her newly-washed damp red locks into a braid and shoved on her Harpies gear, trying to divert her mind to other things – such as the big Quidditch match. The match would be starting in about three hours which meant excruciating warm-up drills and doing Gwenog's favourite run up a mountain and through a forest.

Gloria was chatting animatedly into the Floo, fiddling with a lock of blonde hair that had escaped from the messy bun she'd thrown it in.

"Yeah, you too…mmm…yeah….well, my roommate might not go for it…yeah…ooh, you bad thing!" Gloria squealed excitedly into the flickering jade flames. Ginny could just make out the outline of Archie Fagonwheel's distorted face and rolled her eyes.

"Gloria, stop flirting and come on. Gwenog will be furious if you're not here, especially after you begged to play today. Besides, you'll be playing lover-boy in the match anyway, so stop fraternising with the enemy." she said idly, packing two chilled water bottles and an apple into her bag.

"Coming, coming – ooh, where's my Beater's bat? If that bloody substitute that nicked my place has stolen it, I'll-"

"You won't do anything if you're late and Gwenog catches you." said Ginny. "Come on."

* * *

When they finally Flooed to the Harpies' training grounds, only Gracie Bolt (must to Gloria's disgust) and Gianna Holloway were there, both stretching.

"Gwenog's gone for a shower, don't worry, you're not late," grinned Gianna, adjusting her sweatband.

"Unless one of us tells her," snarled Gracie, with a pointed glare at Gloria, who returned it quite, if not more so, ferociously.

"Gracie, don't be a bitch." Gianna retorted casually, smiling at Ginny. "I heard about…you know. I hope you're okay."

A terrible feeling of dread washed over Ginny as she narrowed her eyes. "Heard about what?"

"The _Daily Prophet _article. You know." even Gracie chimed in. "The one about Nev-"

Gracie stopped as Gianna silently pulled a crisp copy of the _Prophet _from her green Harpies' satchel and waved it at Ginny.

* * *

BOY WHO LIVED – DOWN IN THE "**DUMPS**"?

_Neville Longbottom, also known as the saviour of the wizarding world, revealed in an exclusive interview that things between long-term girlfriend Ginny Weasley, 21, are over._

_"I haven't got time for a girlfriend right now, particularly one who puts work before relationships," explains Neville sadly, "and Ginny's just too dedicated to her career."_

_Weasley, who plays the position of Chaser for popular Quidditch team the Holyhead Harpies, was dumped yesterday by Longbottom, who claims she's not devoted enough._

_"I think she thought things were getting serious," says Neville, frowning, "but I just didn't feel the same way any more. Maybe in the future, if she focuses more on life than work, we could rekindle the flame."_

_"I completely agree with Neville," agrees junior Witch Weekly journalist, Romilda Vane, "Ginny Weasley's a pathetic bitch. She's just so weird, and she totally doesn't appreciate Neville for who he is. He deserves better. She's not even that good a Quidditch player."_

_However, not everyone's on Neville's side._

_"Ginny and Neville were a lovely couple," sighs Luna Lovegood, having just returned early from a fruitless expedition to find the fictional creature, the "Grumpy Horny Sack", which according to the unstable youth is a creature that lives in Switzerland, "but if they go their separate ways, it's probably more down to the actions of the Figlog, which is a relationship-hating pixie that pelts people with cursed invisible arrows to destroy their relationships, than it is to Ginny's non-existent lack of devotion."_

_However, proof has been gathered that Miss Lovegood is not totally reliable._

_"She's a complete nutter," scoffs Cho Chang, 22, Tutshill Tornadoes' player, "at school she was always bleating on about some old crap. I'm surprised she even got sorted into Ravenclaw, she's loopy."_

_When asked if he is still on good terms with Weasley, Longbottom replied "I would like to say we're as close as ever, but she's still angry about the relationship ending. I hope in a couple of weeks when she's cooled down we'll be friends again. I'm still reeling about the loss of a friend, but breaking up with her was probably one of the best things I've done."_

_At the time of press, Miss Weasley was unavailable for comment._

_Article written by Lavender Brown_

* * *

"Lavender Brown is a complete cow!" Ginny exclaimed furiously as she finished reading the article. "Neville didn't dump me, it was the other way round."

"Did you sleep with someone else? I always do that, it's hilarious to watch them find out." Gracie chuckled.

Ginny stared at her in disgust and revulsion. "No, of course not. I would never do that to anyone, especially not Neville. You're sick."

Gloria and Gianna nodded in agreement, exchanging horrified glances.

"Ooh, hark at Little Miss Virgin." Gracie rolled her eyes as she applied a thick layer of kohl. "I was just asking."

"I'm not a virgin." Ginny felt herself flush light pink. "I've slept with Neville, and Neville alone – and before you ask, I was twenty. But that's my business so don't go shooting your mouth off."

"Men are pigs." soothed Gianna knowingly, "and besides, nobody who eats at the Hog's Head will believe that garbage. Roberta, that bartender, has been mouthing off about you rejecting Neville's proposal. Anyway, the main thing is that you know the truth."

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you break up?" inquired Gracie boisterously. "I mean, he's gorgeous…"

"On the outside, yes." said Ginny bitterly, her mind replaying Neville's words in the article.

"If Ginny doesn't want to talk about it, she doesn't have to." snarled Gloria, conjuring up a thick jade scrunchie and tying it in her hair. "Especially not to _you_."

But to Ginny's surprise, Gloria threw her a dirty look. Before she could question it, there was an annoyed outburst.

"Give it a rest, both of you." the strong Italian accent that made them all jump told them Giovanna had entered. "We're all sick of your bitching, just get a grip and shut up. We're here to win."

Giovanna looked pointedly at Gloria, who resumed trying to shove her frizzy hair into a bun.

Sullenly, Gloria turned her back on Gracie and began muttering to herself. Ginny, still reeling after reading the article, joined her.

"I'm your best friend. And yet I was last to find out." hissed Gloria, before Ginny could speak.

"It happened late last night. Look I'm sorry, but I didn't feel like talking about it. Let's just focus on winning, Glor." Ginny's voice held genuine regret, and her friend softened.

"All right."

When Gwenog arrived and got the whole team running drills, Ginny found it unexpected relief from her problems. The cool air made it easier to breathe as it buffered her face and the only sounds were the sweet choruses of the nearby bluebirds.

* * *

By twelve 'o' clock she was feeling fully energised and retreated with the others to the Harpies' lunch hall, selecting a black coffee, an iced water and some tomato and mozzarella salad.

Gloria was already chomping her way through a large plate of chips and an iced tea when Ginny sat down, deep in conversation with Gianna, who looked slightly bored.

"-then Archie and I were official, but it didn't last long, he was just too immature, only I've seen him with that Tornadoes' player Cho Chang…it hurts, but I'm thinking we'll be getting back together fairly soon, you know, what with us being so close…" garbled Gloria speedily.

"Hi Ginny!" chirped Gianna immediately, the glazed boredom in her eyes dissipating as her friend began chewing on the mozzarella. "Let's talk Chaser tactics?"

"Good idea," grinned Ginny, as Gloria glared at her plate of lukewarm, greasy chips, "I was thinking…the Keeper for the other team is Archie Fagonwheel, right? So we could yell something about Gloria at him when we get close, maybe distract him?"

Gianna beamed. "We should. And let's see, Giovanna's up against Harry Potter as Seeker…I've heard he's really quite good…better than their last one anyway, Giovanna thrashed him."

Ginny smiled wryly, trying to cut Potter off from her thoughts. "Gwenog and Gloria as Beaters, and Gracie as the other Chaser, with Gabriella as Keeper."

Gianna nodded as she speared a forkful of spaghetti bolognese. "The Falcons have got Potter as Seeker, Fagonwheel as Keeper, Corner as Beater, Davison as Beater with Zeller, Pritchard and Horton as Chasers."

"We all know the Foulmouth Falcons play dirty." said Ginny. "So let's hope the referee actually does something about it this time."

Last time the Harpies had played the Falcons, it had not ended well. Gloria was shrieking her head off about being groped by the Seeker (who was fired after being sent to Azkaban for fraud after being caught making counterfeit Galleons), Gwenog slapped the referee for allowing the Seeker's "groping", Giovanna fractured her leg after a vicious swipe by one of the Beaters five seconds after the Snitch was caught, Ginny got into a fight with Gracie after the latter swapped their broomsticks around and Gianna got locked in the toilets by who she claimed was a Falcon.

"Archie's scared of mice." muttered Gloria suddenly, gulping down the remains of her iced tea. "Just tell him you see a mouse or something, he'll go crazy."

Gianna smiled warmly. "Thanks…look, I can talk to Gracie if you'd like."

"I can fight my own battles," retorted Gloria, but she returned the smile and pushed her half-eaten plate of chips away. "Gwenog's going to kill me if she sees me eating chips. She had a right go at me earlier for eating a bar of chocolate."

At that last word, Gwenog Jones burst in, clutching an apple, a chocolate muffin and a ham sandwich with a large bite-mark in the bread.

"Stop stuffing your faces and get out on the field for one last warm-up before the Falcons arrive!" she bellowed. At this, Ginny and the other Harpies swallowed their last mouthfuls and hurried after the captain, ready for another hour of hell before the match finally begun.

* * *

"This is going to be a piece of cake," commented Giovanna confidently, as she pulled on her green Harpies' leg-warmers and whirled around to face her teammates.

"I just hope I don't get distracted," winked Gracie, spitting her bubblegum into a nearby bin, "that Harry Potter is gorgeous."

"Wipe the drool off your chin and let's get going," snapped Gwenog irritably, who had no sympathy for lovestruck girls.

Ginny found herself feeling resentful towards Gracie as a pang of annoyance struck her. Trying not to glare at the Chaser, she stalked off with Gloria, biting her lip.

The Falcons Flooed in ten minutes before the match was scheduled to begin, and already the stands were filling up with people. Ginny could see Ron and Hermione nestled in the box reserved for Harpies' friends and family. Curiously, she scanned the Falcons' family box but amongst the sea of grey-and-white flags and banners didn't spy Potter's family.

There were another five minutes before the match began, so her nerves beginning to stir, she slung her legs over her broomstick and slowly flew up to where she could now see George, her mother, Bill, Percy and Charlie as well as Ron and Hermione.

"Good luck," called Hermione, struggling to speak up against the roaring wind, "you'll be great!"

"We're rooting for you, Ginnykins!" smirked George as he leaned over to hug his sister. "And if any of those Falcon blokes give you trouble you give them what for!"

"Will do, Georgina," retaliated Ginny, and her brother grinned. "Where's Angelina?"

"She wanted to come, but she had to work," explained George, "but she said to tell you 'to knock those arrogant gits off their broomsticks' which personally I think is a little harsh, but-"

"Good luck, Ginny." said Percy, producing a miniature green flag and whirling it about. "You'll be fantastic."

She smiled. Although Percy had never lost his pompous tone or manner of speaking, his attitude had become much more…_Weasley_. Which was definitely a good thing.

"Better go take your position, dear," said Mrs Weasley suddenly, "and be careful of those Bludgers!"

Shaking her head fondly, Ginny swiftly flew back to the Keeper's hoops and waited for the referee's whistle to blow.

* * *

Five minutes later and already the score was tied 2-2. Ginny had already spotted Potter, who was waving at her in a very irritating manner.

"He's trying to distract you," she whispered hoarsely over the billowing wind as she deftly flew over to Gianna and after a slight fumble, caught the Quaffle.

She managed to dodge past Archie Fagonwheel and score a goal through the middle hoop, earning enthusiastic cheers and yelling from the green side of the stadium.

Just as she was about to make a difficult yet accomplishable pass to Gracie, who had successfully left one of the Falcon beaters dangling off his broom in mid-air, something large and heavy whizzed past her, lightly brushing her cheek with tough leather skin. Jumping, she dropped the Quaffle which was snatched viciously by a whirl of grey-and-white. With a jolt, she realised she had just dodged a Bludger and swerved around to avoid another hit, pelting towards where Graham Pritchard (who she recognised as a Slytherin from Hogwarts) was looking desperately at Gabriella, the Harpies' Keeper, and trying to get past her sharp, narrowed eyes that didn't leave his.

Ginny was about to distract him when something small and shiny fluttered past her. A glint of gold caught in her eye, and realised the Snitch was hovering by her right ear. Tentatively, she glanced around for Giovanna in an attempt to find her and signal to her that the Snitch was nearby. Cursing the stupid gold ball as it bobbed around her head, she caught sight of Giovanna – who was being watched very closely by Harry Potter.

"Damn you, Potter," she hissed angrily, making a second goal and trying to catch Giovanna's attention by mouthing words.

The Snitch was behaving quite strangely, almost as if under an enchantment. Shaking her head in disbelief at that theory, Ginny decided she might as well try to tell Giovanna where the Snitch was, even if it meant alerting Potter as well.

Catching the Seeker's black-rimmed eye, Ginny frantically pointed to the dozy golden ball. Almost immediately Giovanna took off, soaring towards it, she was going to catch it-

THUNK.

The dull, heavy sound was the last noise Ginny remembered hearing until her world became hazy and dark. Black, delicious black, coated the walls of her imagination and she found herself almost slipping away, in a comfortable doze.

* * *

"I think she's coming around now, Ron."

"I'll get Mum."

"No, get a Healer, quickly! And the medi-witch."

The clipped, stressed voice of Hermione Granger brought distorted images of a hospital directly to her eyes, and slowly, she regained sight of St. Mungo's.

"Hermione?" she murmured groggily, trying to heave herself up and failing. "Is that you?"

A long red tendril tumbled down from nowhere, and Ginny carefully released her hair from the untidy bun someone had shoved it in. It was a relief to have reality back in her grasp.

It was then that she realised her arm was aching and had been carefully wrapped up in a sling, and her right leg was throbbing painfully.

"Oh thank Merlin, I was so worried," gabbled Hermione delightedly, crouching down beside her. Ginny noticed a large dark purple bruise on Hermione's left cheek and frowned at her questioningly.

"You got hit by a Bludger in the head," explained her friend quietly, "and you fell off your broom. Gwenog and Gracie managed to catch you before you hit the ground. All the Harpies fans were screaming their heads off. It was horrible. And then when you got rushed to St. Mungo's by the medics, the referee announced that the Harpies had won 50-40 even though the Snitch hadn't been caught. So the Falcons fans went crazy and started attacking the Harpies fans, and I got a bit caught up in it all…you should see George!"

Alarmed, Ginny threw herself upwards so she was sitting up and stared in horror at Hermione, who had clasped her hands to her mouth.

"No, he's okay, I didn't mean it like that!" shrieked Hermione anxiously.

"George got hurt? Where is he?" rasped Ginny.

"No, not badly or anything, he got a few broken ribs and a black eye…but it's fine, the Healers sorted him out. He's actually being let out today."

"How's everyone else?" demanded Ginny worriedly.

"They're all fine…they got out of there pretty quickly. Harry came to see you," added Hermione coyly.

"They let him in?" exclaimed Ginny disgustedly.

"Yep," replied the older witch, nodding, "he stayed for a while…chatted to you for a bit…then he had to go, Cho sent him a Patronus."

"Like a little dog I suppose?" Ginny murmured darkly. "Jumped up and ran off."

"Not that you'd mind, of course…" said Hermione innocently, just as a flustered Molly Weasley burst into the room, closely followed by a stressed-looking Healer and an anxious Ron.

"Miss Weasley, glad to see you up and well again," smiled Healer Jenkins. "I'll be discharging you later this evening as soon as your leg has healed properly."

"I'll be taking her home," said Molly firmly, looking lovingly at her daughter. "I'm more than qualified to look after her and frankly, I don't think feeding her excessive amounts of painkillers is going to help that arm."

"We're doing all we can, Molly," soothed Healer Jenkins, as though she was used to this reaction from anxious yet bossy mothers, "but you're going to have to wait for me to declare her fit to leave."

"I won't have to wait for anything!" snapped Molly tetchily. "Ginny will go home when she wants to!"

Healer Jenkins' smile became slightly strained as she raised her eyebrows in response.

"Mum…she knows what she's doing." Ron quickly chipped in, sensing this was about to get slightly out of control.

"Actually, I would like to go home now." said Ginny suddenly. "I'm feeling much better…"

"Take this potion first," insisted the Healer, producing a small, round bottle containing a smooth violet liquid. It smelled strongly of rich chocolate and plums. It was delicious.

Shrugging, Ginny took the bottle and raised it to her lips, taking a large gulp before retching and trying to prevent herself from spitting the vile stuff out.

"It's disgusting!" she choked out, heliotrope blobs littering the floor. "It tastes like…like…like shi-"

"-it's going to heal your leg." retorted the Healer quickly. "In the evening, like I said, you can go home."

"I should let Neville know." said Hermione quietly, causing Ginny to stare at her rather furiously.

"That horrid boy shall not be going anywhere near my daughter!" Molly spat viciously. "He sold her out to a nasty paper to save his reputation!"

"You saw the paper?" exclaimed Ginny in disbelief. "But you never said anything!"

"I was waiting until after the match." explained her mother. "But I have a right mind to pay him a visit and whack him thrice around that blown-up head!"

"Me too." agreed Ron. "I already sent him a Patronus telling the git off, but he never replied."

"You could have mentioned to me that you knew we broke up, and I guess I won't bother telling you that the article was a load of bullshit." said Ginny, relieved.

"Ginevra! Language!" Molly scolded.

It took a good ten minutes to calm Molly Weasley down and yet soon enough, Ginny was looking to be spending the rest of the day in the hot, sticky atmosphere of St. Mungo's alone. Hermione had gone for an interview at the Ministry and her brothers had been shooed away by Healer Jenkins. Molly had reluctantly left with the promise of being back at six to collect her.

* * *

Just as her eyelids were drooping shut and she felt the agonising pain in her leg begin to numb, the door creaked open and an excruciatingly irritating voice said "Weasley. Glad to see you…"

"Just get lost, Potter." growled the sleepy redhead, glowering at him. "You got me stuck in here and when I'm better you'd better hope I don't find you because as soon as I get my wand back you're dead…meat…"

Potter grinned. "Glad to see you're yourself again. I was getting worried. I actually sat in your presence for a _whole minute _without you insulting me."

"That might have had something to do with the fact that I was unconscious." said Ginny sarcastically, shaking her head. "Besides, if I had my way you wouldn't be allowed within a ten mile radius of me."

"Ah, but what fun would that be, Gin?"

"Don't call me Gin," said Ginny sharply, closing her eyes. Only Fred had called her Gin, and now…she hated the sound of the word.

"So, leg feeling better?" questioned Potter.

"Nope, but what do you care?" retorted Ginny rudely.

"Well, I was hoping to go on our double date _tonight_, but I guess I can squeeze tomorrow in." answered Potter casually.

"What double-date? What are you waffling on about?" snapped Ginny, annoyed.

"Come on Weasley, we had a deal," winked Potter amusedly, ruffling his jet-black hair, "no backing out."

"The Harpies won, idiot, which reminds me – you have to leave me alone as a result." exclaimed Ginny delightedly.

"It wasn't a clean, fair game, so I decided a draw would be fairest." explained Potter triumphantly. "Sorry Weasley, but you're going on that double date with me. And part of the deal was that you snog me as well, but take your time. So, who are you going to bring for Archie Fagonwheel?"

"Nobody," snapped Ginny, "because I'm not going!"

It was that precise moment when Hermione chose to waltz into the room, looking very pleased with herself and clutching a scrunched-up piece of paper.

"Hermione, I thought you were at an interview?" said Ginny, happy to see her friend.

"I was. It finished." beamed Hermione, having not yet noticed Harry.

"And…?" Ginny prompted.

"They hired me on the spot," announced Hermione, looking elated, and rightly so. "I've got the position. Deputy for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"

"That's fantastic!" grinned Ginny, just as Harry stepped forward and nodded his congratulations.

"Oh…you're here?" said Hermione amusedly, winking at Ginny. "Anyway, it's going to be great for promoting SPEW!"

"Spew? What's spew?" inquired Harry, not taking his eyes off Ginny, who suddenly felt rather uncomfortable.

"It's not spew!" growled Hermione hotly. "S-P-E-W. Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Oh, of course! I remember, you were that odd girl that tried to get us to buy your badges." said Potter. "Well, anyway, Ginny, when are you getting discharged?"

"Later this evening." muttered Ginny reluctantly.

"Great, let's say meet at Cucina Incantata at eight?"

Cucina Incantata was Ginny's favourite restaurant. It was a beautiful Italian place, run by magical folk, that served the finest food, all imported directly from Italy. It was open to Muggles - they took the name "Enchanted Kitchen" to be metaphorical rather than literal. She had not yet tried a dish she hadn't liked…and yet how had Potter known that?

Hermione, who noticed Ginny's perplexed look, slowly turned a dark shade of crimson – but luckily, Ginny failed to notice this, as she was too busy glaring at Harry Potter.

"If I do this date thing, will you leave me alone?" she asked tiredly.

"I'm not making any promises. Who knows how the night will go?" was his innocent reply.

"Hermione, I choose you as my double date!" said Ginny suddenly.

"Ginny, I'm happily married to your brother!" scolded Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Take Gloria, didn't you say she fancies Archie?" her cheeks had paled slightly, and yet she avoided Ginny's gaze.

"Gloria Gaughley. Excellent choice. I'll see you two both tonight then? Dress code, formal, obviously." called Potter as he departed. "See you, Weasley."

_Oh hell... _thought Hermione as Ginny sighed to herself, _this night is going to be one to remember…_

* * *

Thanks for reading! As always, I'll respond to all reviews :)

~GoldenSnidget13


	5. Damsel in Distress

**Disclaimer**: All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s) and are in no way connected to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros. The author of the following FanFiction does not in any way profit from the story and it is written solely for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters and their settings is neither claimed nor implied.

* * *

To the anonymous reviews:

Monika6996 - thank you! I'm really glad you're enjoying it.

Guest - thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it, sorry about that, but this chapter's quite long (I think) so hopefully that should make up for the shortness of the last one.

Maria - Hi, thank you so much. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. The Quidditch bit, well, I felt a bit sorry for the Falcons, but hey ho, that's Quidditch for you...plus, Ginny now thinks she's got the upper hand when...Harry has. I agree with you there. Thanks again, and enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Five – Damsel in Distress

* * *

"Oh Ginny, you've got to go!"

It was five 'o' clock, and Ginny was still swaddled in clean white sheets from St. Mungo's with a desperate Gloria by her bedside, clutching some water-deprived white lilies, Ginny's favourite flower.

"For the last time, Gloria, no!" sighed Ginny exasperatedly, shaking her head in annoyance. "I'm not going on that stupid date."

"But this could be my chance to hook up with someone hot," pleaded Gloria, "I can finally get over Archie Fagonwheel with some hot Falcon."

Just as a scornful Ginny was about to tell her the truth – that in fact Archie Fagonwheel _was _the "hot" Falcon – Gloria burst into sobbing tears.

"Ginny, I'm so sick of being alone." she wailed melodramatically. "I long for someone else to keep my heart whole! Please go on this date!"

The tears, which years of watching Fred and George weep and wail had taught her were fake, still somehow stirred up a pool of sympathy inside Ginny.

"Okay, fine," she murmured, giving in. "I'll go – but if you start snogging Arc – I mean, the other Falcon, I'm leaving."

"It'll be you and Harry snogging," countered Gloria, rolling her eyes, "you've been flirting like mad with the guy since you and Neville broke up – oh, by the way, does that mean Neville's free now?"

* * *

When Ginny had Flooed back to her flat, accompanied by Gloria, she found Hermione waiting there, perched delicately on the sofa and scanning the _Prophet _half-heartedly.

"Oh, good, you're back!" she yawned, jumping up from her seat. "Ron and I just got back from a meeting with the estate agent. We've found the perfect house!"

Ginny smiled wryly, stepping forward to embrace her friend. "That's fantastic. Does Mum know yet?"

"No…were not quite sure if we're buying it yet…it's a little pricey," explained Hermione, flushing, "but with my new job we've got a bit extra coming in…and it's the perfect place to raise a family."

Ginny's topaz eyes widened considerably.

"No, not yet," gabbled Hermione hurriedly, "but one day…we've discussed it, and we both want children. Maybe in a year or two."

"Let's hope they take after you in brains," winked Ginny idly, dumping her heavy Harpies' kit bag on the floor and wincing as her leg began to ache relentlessly.

"Did the potion not work properly?" demanded Hermione, alarmed.

"It did, she said I might experience some throbbing," reassured Ginny, "anyway, I've been roped into this stupid date thing by Gloria, so I'd better get ready…I might just shove some jeans on, so he knows it's not serious."

Hermione laughed. "Ginny, you can't go to a classy restaurant wearing skinny jeans…especially your favourite restaurant! I'll help you pick something out, yeah?"

Ginny hesitated, eyeing Hermione's outfit. Her soon-to-be sister-in-law always donned something that suited her figure and complimented her features, but it was always something a bit…bookish. Whilst an expensive, tailored skirt-and-jacket combination worked perfectly on the modest Hermione, Ginny preferred dresses when going out for formal occasions.

"I'll help too!" chimed in Gloria happily, who appeared in the doorway sporting an excessively tight, glossy ebony dress. It was strapless and seemed to sparkle in a way that rather hurt your eyes if you stared at it too long. It also, Ginny noticed with amusement, seemed to show an awful lot of cleavage. Gloria, who was very sensitive about her height, had paired it with two shockingly high, spiked charcoal-black stilettoes.

If the dress had been any shorter or tighter, you might not have noticed the makeup that had been slathered over the Beater's heart-shaped face. The emphasis was very much on her now-magenta lips, and the overall effect was somewhat overpowering.

"You look…bold." tried Hermione, who was fighting the urge to giggle.

"Gloria, scrub that muck off your face and for Merlin's sake go pull up your dress," said Ginny, shaking her head amusedly.

Grumbling, the defeated Harpy retreated to her bedroom.

"I think," gasped Hermione, after a loud giggle tumbled off her tongue, "I've got just the right dress for you…"

* * *

"Ginny, _hurry up_!"

"Oh Gloria, it hardly matters if we're a few minutes late-"

"A few minutes, or twenty minutes?" scowled Gloria, shoving her gleaming golden watch in Ginny's face. "It's rude to be late!"

"Fashionably early," corrected Ginny idly, but she snatched her handbag and wand from the counter and sighed exasperatedly. "Let's go, I just want this to be over, quite frankly."

Gloria rolled her eyes in annoyance as the two girls Disapparated, Ginny hoping with all her might that she got Splinched and had to go back to St. Mungo's.

No such luck.

* * *

When they arrived at the restaurant, Ginny felt her bad mood diminish. The relaxed atmosphere of her favourite restaurant brought her comfort, and although she was dreading rejecting Potter's flirts the whole evening, the spicy, aromatic scent that drifted through the air made it a lot easier.

"There they are," squealed Gloria, her sharp eyes spotting Potter, who looked grudgingly handsome in a classic black-and-white suit, and Archie, nestled in the corner and sipping lazily at a beer.

Ginny winced as Gloria slowly turned around on the spot to face her, an accusatory look painted upon her usually-pleasant face.

"_Archie Fagonwheel_. Archie Fagonwheel." murmured Gloria, paling. "Ginny – you – you-"

"Hey, you wanted to come," Ginny reminded her, smirking, "but if you'd rather go home…"

"No, no, that's okay!" squeaked Gloria suddenly, her hands flying up to muss her hair into a tamer clump. "Let's go and say hi, shall we?"

Ginny smiled knowingly and followed her friend over to the booth, which consisted of smooth crimson leather and a brassy oak table. Potter had no drink in front of him, but Archie had already drained one-and-a-half pint glasses of beer.

"Ginevra, may I say how beautiful you look this evening," Potter rose up and smiled flirtatiously at her. "Green is a lovely colour on you."

"And yet, you manage to look so…bland." countered Ginny.

Potter retaliated with an amused smirk and a rather disconcerting wink.

Archie hadn't yet laid eyes on Gloria, who was simpering and giggling like she was thirteen again.

"Gloria, you look…ravishing." smiled Potter. It was true; Gloria did look very pretty, and yet much less subtle than Ginny. She was still donning her ebony mini-dress, but had covered it, at Ginny's strict instructions, with a soft woollen cardigan.

Ginny's dress had been picked by Hermione; it was strapless, modest, a silken emerald, and flowed out from the waist, ending just above her knee. She had initially rejected it, saying she had no intention of dressing up for Potter and his creepy friend, but Hermione had been adamant. At least she could be content with the fact that she wasn't showing nearly as much cleavage as Gloria.

"Glor?" Archie's head snapped up from where it had been resting on the table and he had been enjoying the view of Ginny's chest.

"Hello, Archie," Gloria and Ginny managed to squeeze into the same-side of the booth, facing their dates respectively.

"Can I get you two drinks?" offered Potter graciously, gesturing to a passing waitress who came hurrying over, laden with a tray of champagne.

"I'll have a white wine spritzer," declared Gloria, not taking her eyes off Archie.

"Ginevra here will have a martini, dry, two olives," continued Potter, grinning at Ginny, who scowled.

"Actually," she snapped, "I'll have a sparkling water, please."

Potter rolled his eyes expressively. "Cutting off your own nose to spite me I see…"

"Oh, shut it, Potter," Ginny looked away to the waitress's retreating back.

"So, Ginevra-"

"Call me that again and I'll break your nose," hissed Ginny aggressively, causing Gloria to break eye contact with her beloved Archie and pinch her friend.

"_What the hell are you doing_?" hissed Gloria. "_He likes you_! _And you like him_!"

"I do not!" objected Ginny angrily, although she felt blood seeping treacherously into her cheeks.

"Ginny, when are you going to stop fighting it?" inquired Potter cheekily, reaching for a bread roll from the wicker basket, "we have a connection."

Ginny raised her eyebrow. "Do we now? So you following me, stalking me and harassing me counts as a connection? You never fail to amaze me."

"Well for the record, I think you're amazing too." grinned Potter, boring his glinting jade eyes into her own.

"Oh, leave it out." Ginny swatted his hands away from her own and reached out for her own bread roll. They were soft and pleasantly warm.

"So, Ginny, do you think that guy over there is hot?" demanded Gloria loudly, her eyes darting back to an indignant Archie.

Ginny folded her arms and flashed Gloria a _look_.

"Stop playing games with Archie, and just tell him you like him, idiot." she insisted playfully under her breath.

"Says you!" snorted Gloria. "You obviously fancy Potter, Ginny, just admit it."

Not even bothering to grace that with a response, Ginny turned back to Potter and scowled at him.

"Is everyone ready to order?" he requested cheerfully, "I'll get a waitress. Ginny, why don't you come with me?"

Ginny looked at him incredulously. "You can't be serious?" she sniggered.

"Or you can stay here with the lovebirds?" he suggested slyly, winking at her in a way that made her stomach flip over.

"I – well – I'm going to the toilet," she gabbled, stumbling out of her seat and darting towards the Ladies'.

"Curse these wretched shoes," she muttered, hopping on one leg as she tore off her stiletto and dumped it on the side of the polished sink. "Curse that Potter."

She rubbed the soles of her aching feet and shoved the shoe back on, staggering over to the cubicles as she did so.

Thankfully, the Ladies' was empty and nobody had witnessed her ridiculous dance as she fought to put her shoes back on.

Ginny was just out of the door when someone grabbed her. Potter.

"Following me to the toilets? That's just low, Potter," she made to make her way back to the table, struggling from his grip, but he kept a firm hold, still beaming at her.

"Come on, Weasley. You know you like me." he winked at her again, but she clenched her stomach and refused to meet his eyes.

"Just tell me you don't like me and I'll stop trying." he pleaded. "I like you, honestly, I do."

Ginny was about to storm off without answering, but she was preoccupied when he dipped his head and melded his mouth to hers. Kissing her.

Just as Ginny tore away and began to yell abuse (and try to ignore her tingling lips and breathless composure) there was a loud click, a flash of white light, and a photographer with a badge covered in an inscription saying _Witch Weekly _was staggering away, chuckling to himself.

* * *

"How was the toilets?" winked Gloria, flushed shell-pink after having spent the last ten minutes flirting shamelessly with Archie.

"Fine," said Ginny stiffly, not meeting Gloria's eye. "Fine, just fine. Potter's gone to order."

"Are you alright?" asked Archie sympathetically, speaking for the first time (to Ginny, anyway) since he saw Gloria.

"Fine, thanks." replied Ginny weakly. "Um, Gloria, do we still get Witch Weekly?"

"I'm a daily subscriber, why?" nodded Gloria suspiciously.

"No reason," burbled Ginny. "Potter's getting us a pizza to share. The special."

"I was just telling Archie about that _really _hot guy I met in the Caribbean when we holidayed there, Ginny," said Gloria suddenly. "He really fancied me; Arch…asked for my number and everything…Muggles have _numbers_. Like, he was Muggle Number 07721-"

"Gloria, you're boring him," remarked Ginny. True enough, Archie had stopped listening and was instead staring into his third beer.

"It's called making him jealous," muttered Gloria. Her efforts to retain a strained smile at Archie whilst glaring at Ginny caused her mouth to morph into a very odd position.

Ginny rolled her eyes and tried not to think about tomorrow's issue of Witch Weekly. She could already guess it'd be front page news – the ex-girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived and the Falcons' bachelor Seeker kissing outside of a bathroom – a tale sure to attract many customers.

Potter returned from the bar, gripping tightly a Firewhiskey in his hands. It was easy enough to acquire one even in this multi-Muggle/Wizarding restaurant – you simply had to ask for Tom, the bartender, and being a Squib (therefore knowledge of wizarding drinks) he'd happily get you whatever magical concoction you desired.

He avoided Ginny's gaze, and she refused stoutly to look at him. This was all his fault, after all, ambushing her outside of a toilet!

"I can't believe you did that," she reprimanded angrily, after the tense silence got to her. "You just ruined my career at the Harpies now they're going to think I'm dating some snotty Falcon – and Neville's going to be rubbing it in my face for weeks."

"Weasley, Weasley, calm down," said Potter carelessly, "it'll probably not even make it into the magazine. It was a quick snog, not exactly a marriage proposal."

"It was not a snog, because that implies it was consensual, which I can assure you it most definitely was not," snapped Ginny, "it was a terrible mistake on your part and an unwelcome advance onto my person."

It was Potter's turn to roll his eyes.

"You enjoyed it really, Weasley, you know you did. Just admit you're attracted to me."

Gloria decided to pay Ginny back for her teasing.

"Yeah, I mean you only murmur someone's name in your sleep if you fancy them," she chipped in cruelly, winking at Potter.

"I guess that makes it hard to find out who you fancy, seeing as it's about fifty different guys every night," growled Ginny cattily, before she could stop herself. At the hurt expression that flooded Gloria's face, she instantly regretted it.

"Sorry…Gloria…"

But her friend had already snatched her handbag from the booth and stormed off. A bemused Archie suddenly leaped up and made to follow her, grinning stupidly.

"Look what you made me do!" Ginny rounded on Potter. "You idiot!"

"Me? I think you've got a problem with confessions," accused Potter staunchly.

"Just forget it, this was a bad idea. Don't talk to me again and don't even bother trying to come to my apartment either." instructed Ginny furiously, as she, too, got up and left him sitting there. "Goodbye, Potter."

She left the restaurant, holding her head high, but inside she couldn't help feeling like she'd just made a terrible mistake.

* * *

By midnight, Ginny had managed to grovel to a disgruntled Gloria enough so that her friend was ready to talk to her again. But Ginny found she could barely get a word in edgeways as the former was chattering away about Archie without pausing for breath.

"Gloria, you obviously really like him," she interrupted softly, clasping her friend's hand and giving it a firm yet reassuring squeeze. "Just tell him that. These games you're playing, they don't work, they end in tears."

Gloria flushed a pale shade of magenta.

"Enough," she retorted crisply, "I don't fancy him. Just leave it, Ginny."

Grudgingly, Ginny obliged, flashing her friend one soulful look, willing her to tell the truth, but Gloria had already whipped around and was stalking towards her bedroom.

Ginny was about to do the same, fetching herself a lukewarm Butterbeer and digging in the cupboards for one of those slightly-stale gingerbread biscuits her mother had baked last week, when there was a curt rapping on what sounded like a glass surface.

To Ginny's surprise, her blood failed to ice over. Instead, she just swivelled round and raised her eyebrows.

"Hedwig, when are you going to fly away from that idiot you call an owner?" she mouthed at the shivering owl, grabbing her wand and muttering the incantation to open the window.

Hedwig squeezed herself through the narrow opening and away from the frosty, biting night air outside. She clasped a thick, crumpled piece of parchment in her glossy honeysuckle beak.

Ginny's original hostility when she had spotted the owl vanished at the creature's shudders; she patted Hedwig affectionately on her supple, silken head. "_Accio owl treats!"_

Immediately, a substantial jar, stuffed with unappealing, umber-coloured blocks that emanated a smell of rotting mice mingled with dead fish fought its way out of one of the cupboards and gracefully zoomed over, dropping itself on the nearby, brassy coffee table.

Hedwig released an appreciative, excitable cry (or a squawk) and began tapping her sharp little beak against the flimsy plastic. Ginny smiled involuntarily at this and unscrewed the jar before tipping out a few of the treats and continuing on to survey the letter.

It felt heavy; but then, Potter's letters somehow always did. The parchment he used was obviously expensive, even though his parents had cut him off. It occurred to Ginny she had no idea where he was getting his money from; even his salary from the Falcons couldn't have been enough to be splurging on simple essentials like parchment.

Her willpower battled and lost a fight over whether or not to open the parchment; her curiosity was victorious and she fumbled with the creamy-white envelope, tearing it open and seizing the letter encased inside it.

* * *

_Weasley,_

_I have to say, I did think a lady like yourself had better manners than to leave a gentleman stranded at her favourite restaurant with only the cheque for company, but then again, maybe that's what I like about you._

_We'll have to do it again sometime – you mentioned you didn't like my suit. I heard through the grapevine green's your favourite colour, so maybe next time we meet I'll be dressed just for your liking._

_Anyway, I'll see you at the Burrow tomorrow,_

_sincerely,  
_  
_your darling Potter_

_P.S. It strikes me that calling me "Potter" may be your idea of affection. In that case, I think I'm rather growing to like it._

* * *

Ginny scowled at the paper for a good five minutes after she'd finished reading it; the ink began to blur in her clouded eyes but it took a jab from Hedwig to snap her from her reverie.

"Your owner is the most irritating wart I've ever had the misfortune to meet," she informed the owl tetchily, "and what does he mean, see you at the Burrow? How does he know about the Burrow? And _how does he know my favourite colour_?"

Hedwig stared blankly back at Ginny, her protuberant amber eyes perplexed.  
"Never mind. I suppose I'd better write him back, hadn't I?" Ginny's next words were more to herself than Hedwig, but the latter gave a sharp click of her beak in agreement.

Having scoffed all the available owl treats, Hedwig was unsuccessfully attempting to knock the rest of the titbits from the container with her curved talons, which proved a worthy distraction for Ginny.

"Greedy guts," she scolded idly, her pen scratching the rough parchment accordingly. "Hang on a sec…okay, finished. What do you think?"

Ginny snatched up the parchment from the chilled kitchen surface and held it up to Hedwig to inspect. The owl appeared to be reading it; and once she had finished, she was – no, Ginny was imagining it – she was _laughing_? The bizarre way the owl was rotating her head and the odd sounds that reverberated from her frosted throat told Ginny the owl was…amused.

"It's not that bad," Ginny reprimanded Hedwig playfully. "Oh, fine. I'll rewrite it."

* * *

_Potter,_

_When are you going to stop endangering the life of your lovely snowy-owl, who is currently devouring anything edible in my kitchen, just to send me stupid notes that have no meaning?_  
_And yes, my favourite colour is green, but that is irrelevant. If I am forced to see it on you, it will most likely ruin the beauty of the colour and instead bring up memories of being made to interact with the likes of you._

_Ginny_

_P.S. Kindly translate "I'll see you at the Burrow tomorrow" into something I can actually understand. And FEED YOUR OWL!_

* * *

Deciding Hedwig's opinions were too insignificant this time, Ginny shoved the letter into a new envelope and proceeded to stuff it into Hedwig's open beak. (The owl was now trying to tempt the treats to enter her mouth of their own accord).

"Back to Potter please," she instructed Hedwig distastefully, eyeing the scattered, slobbery remains of crushed owl treats on the counter, "and give him a nice big peck for me, would you? And I don't mean a kiss!"

The owl thrust Ginny one more demeaning look, as though she was stupid (which admittedly she agreed with) and fluttered off into the consuming navy darkness, leaving Ginny to grab her drink and head off to bed.

* * *

"Hermione, over here."

Ginny's upbeat, exuberant tone told a relieved Hermione last night hadn't gone _too _horrendously. After all, Ginny wasn't usually in this good a mood; recently she'd been crabbier, which Hermione had deduced was due to Harry Potter's continued harassment.

"Hi," Hermione greeted her warmly, flopping down into the opposite booth besides Ginny, bringing with her the refreshing scent of new carpets and freshly-applied paint.

"Ron and I went to see the house again," she explained jovially, as Ginny flashed her a questioning look, "we've decided. We're buying it. We've put in an offer; the estate agent says there's only one other bid, so we've got a good chance."

Ginny grinned and pleasure shone bright and legible in her eyes. "That's great. Does Mum know?"

"We're only going to tell her _if _we get the house," Hermione replied uncomfortably, her cheeks blossoming a pale carnation colour, "that way it's a done deal. We'll know in about an hour if we've got the house, so Ron says we can tell her at dinner tonight."

Something sparked in Ginny's mind; something she'd pushed back last night in the midst of other complications.

"Oh, dinner," she exclaimed suddenly. "Potter sent me a letter saying he'd see me at the Burrow. I'm guessing - and hoping I'm wrong - that has something to do with 'dinner'."

"I'm going to murder Ron," Hermione muttered darkly as soon as she absorbed Ginny's perplexed words. "He was supposed to tell you. Honestly, sometimes I think I married a complete dolt."

"You did," said Ginny dryly, supressing the urge to smile at Hermione's irritable yet affectionate words. "So, tell me what?"

"Your mum's invited the whole family to dinner," announced Hermione sheepishly, "and Ron asked if he could bring a guest. Apparently Potter asked if he could come...Ron was supposed to tell you yesterday, after the match, but I guess what with you being in hospital and me getting injured-" she ran a finger lightly over the faded violet mark that darkened her skin "-he forgot."

"Why didn't Mum tell me?" inquired Ginny, distraught at the thought of seeing Potter again. "This is disastrous!"

"I think she relied on the belief that Ron would tell you," Hermione responded sarcastically, "which was not a good idea."

Ginny buried her face in her hands despairingly. "I'll have to make an excuse not to go."

"No way," Hermione interjected firmly, "you're not leaving me to this dinner alone, especially if we're telling Molly about the house. I'll need you for backup. Ron's planning to use your misdeeds as a distraction when we drop the bombshell." she smiled innocently.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Typical Ron. But I can't go if Potter's going. Not after last night."

Hermione's tawny-chocolate eyes lit up accordingly, and she perked up. "Oh yes – the infamous date," she smirked, "what happened?"

"Well, it was awkward at first, what with Gloria and Archie all over each other, and me and Potter sitting there like a couple of lemons, and then-" suddenly, the colour drained from her normally-flushed, freckled face and she gasped in horror.

"Hermione – did you get a copy of Witch Weekly this morning?" she demanded frantically, jumping up from her position at the booth of the Hog's Head and causing her mug of Butterbeer to topple and drench the surface, warm orange fizz everywhere.

"Yes, but I haven't opened the envelope it came in yet." Hermione answered, puzzled. "Why?"

"Because – oh hell – I've got to stop my family from reading it!" Ginny yelped frenziedly. "It – oh holy half-bloods!"

"Ginny, calm down!" Hermione insisted, pulling her sister-in-law back into the booth and murmuring "_Scourgify_" so the pungent orange stains disappeared from the table-top. "What are you talking about?"

"Last night," whispered Ginny miserably, swivelling her dejected orbs up to face Hermione, "I excused myself to the bathroom."

"Right…" Hermione said slowly, wondering where this was leading.

"And…when I got out Potter was waiting for me." she continued woefully. "And he ambushed me, Hermione."

"You mean…" Hermione trailed off, still perplexed.

"He snogged me!" Ginny hissed, keeping her voice as low as humanely possible.

"Oh," Hermione stifled a giggle behind her hand, stashing her wand away. "That's not so bad, is it? And anyway, what does that have to do with Witch Weekly."

"Hey, Weasley. Nice action there. How did you bag Potter, eh?"

Ginny and Hermione looked up alarmingly to see Padma Patil, clutching a vibrant magenta magazine in her hand and throwing Ginny a smug, impressed look.

"What?" Hermione stared at Ginny in surprise. "How does she-?"

"The whole Wizarding world knows, Granger," chuckled Padma, and she slapped the magazine, which with a jolt Ginny realised as Witch Weekly, down on the counter.

Hermione scooped it up and her eyes scrutinised the cover, watching Harry Potter grab Ginny and meld their mouths together in slow motion repeatedly, before quietly handing it back to Padma, who thankfully took the hint and scurried off, giggling.

"So a photographer caught you?" Hermione guessed absently.

Ginny nodded mournfully. "Yes. I don't even know how they knew we were there, but-"

"One of the guests probably tipped them off that one of the Falmouth Falcons, who happened to be a friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, and one of the Holyhead Harpies was on a date," Hermione said impatiently, "that's not really the issue. The issue is, why do you care so much?"

Ginny spotted one of the wretched copies of the magazine underneath the booth in the newspaper stand and waved it in Hermione's face, her own contorted with frustration.

"I care because I don't want everyone, including Neville, to read it and think I am having some affair with Harry freaking Potter!"

Hermione appeared rather taken aback at this outburst.

"Ginny, nobody believes the trash this rag prints anyway," she soothed her friend reassuringly, "and besides, once you explain to your family, they'll understand."

"Padma Patil believes it," grumbled Ginny obstinately. "And I don't need my six – five – brothers on my case, yelling about some none-existent fling with Potter. Especially Ron. He's so overprotective."

"They might not even see the article," Hermione pointed out reasonably.

"Hermione, I'm front page news," said Ginny incredulously, "and even if they don't, Potter will tell them, and gloat about it. Besides – Mum still gets it for the recipes. She's probably reading it right now and getting ready to send me a Howler about snogging in public."

"That's a bit extreme," argued Hermione. "Look, why don't we go and pay Potter a visit?" she suggested.

"Are you joking?" Ginny stared at her in disbelief. "I wouldn't step one foot in that toerag's grotty home if you paid me."

"You don't have to, Weasley."

The grating, infuriating voice that iced her whole body over could only belong to one person, and Ginny felt just about ready to scream in anger.

"You!" she snarled, as Harry Potter, looking rather handsome and to Ginny's fury, rather satisfied with himself, came strolling into view.

"Yes, me," he grinned. "I take it you've seen that ghastly article."

"You don't approve?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I would have thought, someone with a burning passion for Ginny would appreciate being slapped on the cover of a popular gossip magazine, seen kissing her again and again and again…"

Potter laughed appreciatively. "Have you forgotten I have a girlfriend?"

It was Ginny's turn to laugh. "Oh yeah, how's the little princess taking the news?"

"According to you, there is no news," Potter said smugly, "it was a drunken, accidental kiss. That's total rubbish, of course, but Cho bought it fair and square. Until she realised that was a lie and screamed at me, kicked me out of her flat and told me never to talk to her again."

"So where are you living now?" asked Ginny amusedly.

"Well, a good friend of mine has kindly offered me accommodation for the next week or so," Potter answered her optimistically. "He's just bought a new house – his estate agent phoned him ten minutes ago to break the good news – and he's got lots of extra room for me. His wife won't mind, apparently."

"Do you mean to say," Hermione began, her voice trembling with fury, "you're moving in with me and Ron?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

* * *

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

"Better just leave her to it," Potter informed a partially amused, partially alarmed Ginny, as Hermione screamed abuse at her Patronus, which she was intending to send to her husband.

"Shut up, Potter," Ginny growled at him tetchily, "this is all your fault. If you hadn't snogged me, poor Hermione wouldn't be exercising her lungs quite so much at my brother."

"If you had just given in and admitted you have feelings for me, I could've finished with Cho sooner and-"

"And what? We'd be together?" Ginny demanded. "Read my lips, Potter. I – don't – have – feelings – for – you. And you can't treat girls like toys you can mess around with whenever you feel like it."

"Cho's been cheating on me for months, and I never confronted her," Potter retaliated coolly, "and if you don't have feelings for me, then why did you kiss me back?"

"I didn't!" Ginny exclaimed, irate at this sudden accusation.

"For a second." maintained Potter confidently. "For a second. Don't deny it, Weasley. And because you're worried about Neville kicking up a fuss – or your family's reactions – or just of admitting you like me, you're torturing me."

"I don't care about Neville," Ginny folded her arms defensively, aware half of the Hog's Head was actively staring at her and Potter, mouths ajar.

"Then what is it?" Potter demanded. "Why do you resist me?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that I'm just not attracted to you?"

"No."

"Oh, talking to you is a waste of time. Just leave me alone, Potter." Ginny glared at him, trying to ignore the frantic voice in her head yelling at her, telling her to give in, to admit he was right about everything he'd just said –

But she turned around and Disapparated, leaving him standing there, alone.

* * *

Sorry about the wait. Hope you enjoyed your Easter. Thanks for reading.

As always, any reviews are appreciated and replied to :)

~GoldenSnidget13


	6. Family Values

Disclaimer: All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s) and are in no way connected to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros. The author of the following FanFiction does not in any way profit from the story and it is written solely for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters and their settings is neither claimed nor implied.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Your feedback really helped and means a lot.

I had quite a few people interested in Harry's background. I've explained it in more depth in this chapter, so hopefully that should clear a few things up. There will be more on both him and Ginny's Hogwarts lives, so bear with me.

Hinnyforever - Haha, I love your name. Thank you, I'm so glad you like it.

Guest - Thank you! I'm so pleased:)

Guest - That's a good idea, but at the moment I've got something else simple planned for that. Thank you!

Guest - Thank you! I'm so happy, and I agree, there need to be more of those. And yes, poor Hermione!

FanFiction Geek - Thanks! That means a lot, I'm so pleased :)

Darkryus - Thanks, I'm really glad you like it!

And...on with the story!

* * *

Chapter Six - Family Values

* * *

_Ginny felt herself relax as she squeezed herself deeper into the plush warmth of the carnelian-red velvet sofas; the Gryffindor common room was a haven if you were tired or needed a break from homework. Having just spent the last two hours revising for her OWLs, Ginny's head was throbbing relentlessly, an agonising pain striking her forehead without pause._

_The only solace she could find for herself was the thrill that – she still couldn't believe it – Neville liked her. He fancied her. He'd kissed her, yesterday, outside, in the castle grounds, and told her he wanted to be with her. It had been a stunning, but joyous admission for Ginny. Michael, her ex-boyfriend, had been less than pleased, but she didn't care one jot. He was an idiot, nobody, compared to Neville. She still couldn't believe it was happening – it seemed too good to be true, almost.  
A soothing, quiet bustle swept through the room; pupils from her year snapping shut their Potions books after some half-hearted revision; the odd couple here and there flirting shamelessly; a heated pillow fight raging to her right and a couple of people trying their best to struggle through their homework, murmuring here and there whilst chewing on the edges of their Deluxe Sugar Quills._

_She felt her eyelids drooping, and her headache beginning to recede; she was in the grasp of a comfortable nap when somebody flopped down on her sofa, jogging her once-snuggled position and yanking her brutally from her last chance of getting some sleep before dinner._

_'Oh, sorry Ginny,' Seamus apologised gruffly, when her eyes snapped open and she heaved herself up, flashing him an irritated look, 'didn't see you there, your hair being the same colour as the sofa and that.'_

_Ginny rolled her eyes good-naturedly and gave him a mock-annoyed smile. She had virtually no chance of napping now, so she decided it would be best to just close her eyes for a few minutes before finding her friends._

_'So, Harry, why do you look so glum?'_

_'It's nothing, Seamus…honestly. I'm fine.'_

_Ginny frowned at hearing this. Potter wasn't the sort to get miserable; at least not in public. He'd usually be surrounded by a cluster of friends; Dean, Seamus, that lot. Sometimes Ron would make an appearance – although he'd made remarks about Potter's cockiness, she knew her brother liked him to an extent and whenever Neville or Hermione weren't around, he'd be with Potter._

_'If you're sure,' Seamus sighed exasperatedly and got up again, strolling over to where Fay Dunbar was standing alone, sipping at some pumpkin juice and just waiting to be flirted with._

_Ginny opened her eyes and risked a glance at Potter. He was sitting in a cosy crimson armchair, slumped down, and looking quite despondent._

_Somehow, the words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. 'Oi, Potter. What's the matter?'_

_His bright jade orbs swivelled around and settled on her, brimming with interest. 'What's it to you, Weasley?'_

_'Just wondering,' she replied honestly, 'you look miserable.'_

_'My mum.' he spoke softly, and she could recognise the sadness that coated his diluted pupils; it was genuine sorrow. His melancholy tone contributed towards her conclusion, which was that something terrible had happened. 'I didn't know, they told me today…'_

_'Told you what?' requested Ginny gently, surprised at how sympathetic and coaxing her voice was._

_'She was pregnant,' Potter murmured, after a moment's pause, 'and she lost the baby. My brother or sister.' his eyes suddenly became watery and damp; the usual vivid colour that caked his delicate face drained and he looked lost; forlorn._

_His words caused her stomach to clench and a dreadful feeling of ice to clasp it; she hardly knew what to say. She clasped her fingers together, kneading the soft skin in discomfort. 'I'm sorry,' she tried awkwardly. 'That's terrible.'_

_'I didn't know she was pregnant. They were going to tell me in the holidays,' Potter continued, his voice choked and evident with grief._

_'There's nothing anyone could have done,' Ginny found herself telling him firmly, as she hauled herself up from the warm comfort of the sofa and treading carefully over to the dejected boy, 'and I know I can only imagine how you must be feeling. But your mum needs you now, more than ever.'_

_'Cho said that it was nothing,' mumbled Potter, anger erupting from his throat as he spoke, 'said it was just a baby. Just a lifeless lump.'_

_'Cho's a bitch, Potter, if you didn't know that, now you do,' Ginny remarked bluntly, shocked at the insensitivity of the Ravenclaw girl. 'Get yourself someone better. But before that…I think you should owl your mum back. Tell her you love her.'_

_And with that, she turned around and retreated from the common room, still overwhelmed by the fact that Potter had a soft side, just like any other person; and most of all, that he'd chosen to share that side with her. Neville was waiting there, smiling at her with affection embedded in his eyes. Ginny felt another thrilled jolt strike her body as she saw him._

_She didn't know that Potter was staring at her back, a stunning realisation hitting him; he already had found someone better._

_But she was Neville's. Not his._

* * *

Ginny's eyes yanked open, a dark, bleak world surrounding her. She'd forgotten that day; pushed it away, too preoccupied with thoughts of Neville.

Potter's mother had miscarried; he'd been devastated – like she'd never seen him before. And now, seeing this new, cocky, arrogant twerp compared to the distraught boy she'd comforted only a few years ago, she couldn't help but wonder if he was still that boy underneath.

"Ginny, wake up."

It was Gloria's voice, and she sounded lethargic; her sluggish tone meant she was exhausted, and Ginny obediently groaned groggily and dragged herself up to see her fatigued friend standing in her room, her arms folded and eyebrows raised.

"You've got that family dinner thing in an hour. You've been asleep for six hours and you need to get ready. Hermione just Flooed to check you're definitely attending."

"Unfortunately," Ginny scowled, but the refreshing feeling of being awake was enough to keep her mood relatively upbeat. "Thanks for waking me."

Gloria nodded wearily. "That's okay. Hey, I saw the Witch Weekly article. Front page, huh?"

"Unfortunately," Ginny repeated, and Gloria smiled wryly, running a hand through her clump of dishevelled blonde hair.

"You never told me it got photographed. I mean, I vaguely remember something about a snog, but…" Gloria didn't sound hurt, just curious, but Ginny felt a pang of guilt pierce her stomach and she shuffled uncomfortably as she dug through her wardrobe for a suitable outfit to don for the dreaded dinner.

"Sorry…I just wanted to forget about it, and then I think the Butterbeer in the fridge was mixed with Firewhiskey because I felt tipsy before I fell asleep and in the morning I didn't remember anything until after breakfast with Hermione." she explained sheepishly.

"Don't worry. Have fun at dinner." Gloria assured her kindly. "I'm going out later, so I won't be back until later. Maybe next morning."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, only then noticing what Gloria was wearing; a pretty white cotton dress that flowed out from the waist. It was unusually modest, with thick ivory straps and an embroidered golden belt.

"Mum gave it to me last birthday," Gloria explained shyly, "I never really wore it, I thought it was too girly and boring, but I realised it's okay to be…subtle."

Ginny giggled. "I never thought I'd hear _you _say that, Glor. But it looks beautiful."

It was perfectly true; the soft honeysuckle-white made Gloria's even honey complexion stand out and glow attractively.

"Thanks. And…you were right about Archie. I'm going on a date with him." Gloria confessed, her caramel features flushing a pale scarlet. "Tonight."

"Have fun," Ginny grinned serenely, embracing her friend. "I'd better go and get ready for this stupid dinner thing."

Gloria beamed delightedly and left her to it, humming to herself blissfully.

* * *

The enchanted wooden clock adorning the wall proved it was the dreaded six 'o' clock – time to leave for the Burrow. Ginny grabbed her wand from where it lay stiffly on her nightstand, knowing she'd need it if her brothers decided to show off their irritating ways and grabbed the huge plastic container that concealed the Firewhiskey cake she'd made earlier.

Whilst cooking wasn't one of her talents, the Firewhiskey cake was an envied recipe that had been in the Weasley family for years. It was simple; bake a large Cauldron Cake but mix in half a bottle of Firewhiskey and ice with Butterbeer frosting. It was delicious; and although Ginny had just enchanted the utensils to do most of the work, it did look rather scrumptious, and the smell emanating from the container was delectable.

Snatching a handful of Floo powder from the small china bowl she and Gloria kept by the dusty, rusted fireplace, Ginny stepped into the coal-covered grate and yelled "the Burrow!" before disappearing in a flash of lukewarm emerald flames.

* * *

It was strangely comforting and yet nostalgic to be back in her family home; Ginny breathed in the familiar scent of her mother's delicious cooking and the farm-fresh smell of chickens. Looking around the room, a pang of homesickness hit her, as every detail, the broken chair with the funny leg she and her brothers had tricked Ron into sitting in, the worn, thatched rug where she'd spilled pumpkin juice and blamed Percy for it, the family clock that showed every member's whereabouts, came rushing back to her.

Fred's hand was stuck obstinately on _Lost_, as it had been for the years since the battle. Ginny gulped and drew her eyes away until they settled on her approaching mother, who was beaming merrily.

"Ginny, dear, I've missed you so much," she croaked joyfully, dragging her only daughter into a tight, loving hug. The tin carrying the Firewhiskey cake pummelled Ginny painfully in the stomach, but she didn't care. The accustomed smell of her mother; cooking sherry and cleaning fluids, was beautifully comforting.

"You too, Mum," she told her, when her mother had pulled away. "I brought a cake for pudding."

"Firewhiskey cake. Of course." her mother flashed her a knowing, cheerful smile as she took the container and placed it on the cluttered kitchen counter. Ginny stared at the table in amazement.

It was laden with food to the point of almost collapsing; peppered chicken, baked, golden-brown in colour and dripping with rich, juicy gravy; salted potatoes, butter pooling inside slits of every russet ball; grilled carrots, free of the black grit she remembered from the Harpies' food hall and a striking sunset-orange; crusty bread, perfectly warm and springy; tomato soup, a flamboyant crimson in colour and releasing a mouth-watering aroma of herbs; a tossed salad, littered with rounded cherry tomatoes, shredded carrot; crispy, stiff croutons and crunchy, watery celery pieces.

There was also a bowl stuffed full of creamy Yorkshire puddings, puffed up to their best, and Ginny felt her stomach rumble accordingly. It had been a while since she'd had the pleasure of enjoying her mother's outstanding cooking.

But the moment was ruined when a familiar face came down, a dazzling smile painted upon her features.

"Geeny! Eet has been too long!"

"Fleur," Ginny forced a smile on her face as her radiant sister-in-law came bounding down the stairs, her silvery-blonde hair cascading down her back in a waterfall of pure light. "I haven't seen you in what? Five months!"

"I 'ave missed you. Victoire 'as been asking about you, Geeny, she misses 'er aunt." Fleur declared, kissing Ginny firmly on both cheeks. "And I 'ave to zay, 'oo look very good. Lovely."

"As do you." Ginny said sweetly. "I've missed Victoire too…it's her sixth birthday soon, isn't it?"

"Yes. Beel 'as asked your Aunt Muriel to watch 'er while we 'ave dinner." Fleur told her graciously. "And I 'aven't told 'oo my news. Beel and I are 'aving another baby!"

Ginny smiled, genuinely thrilled at the prospect of being an aunt to another child. "That's great! Congratulations! When's the baby due?"

"Ze baby eez to be born in October." answered Fleur happily. "Beel eez thrilled."

Just as Ginny was about to congratulate her again, there was a loud _crack _and George and his wife Angelina Weasley (née Johnson) appeared.

Ginny and Angelina had always been on good terms; their shared love for Quidditch meant they often dissolved into conversation about that. Angelina had been affectionately jealous at Ginny securing a place on the Harpies and often came to watch her matches with George.

"So, Georgina tells me you were fabulous in that match against the Falcons," Angelina told her immediately as they exchanged a friendly hug, using her and Ginny's private name for George. "I was so upset when he told me you'd fallen."

"Georgina got hurt too," Ginny remembered suddenly. "Broken ribs, right?"

"I'm fine now, little sis," George grinned wickedly, "Angie saw to that. Could give old Madam Pomfrey a run for her money. And that Bruise Remover did the trick right away, so I didn't have to go around looking like a panda."

"Good for you," responded Ginny amusedly. "Georgina."

"Now, now, Ginevra," George scolded her playfully, "I wouldn't get cheeky, not after that article in Witch Weekly."

"Shut up George," said Angelina idly, before throwing Ginny an apologetic look. "Don't worry, he's going to be teasing you about it all evening. I did tell him not to mention it, but…"

"George, shutting up? That would render me speechless," quipped Ginny, trying to move off the subject of the article.

"So…are you and Potter…you know?" Angelina asked curiously, shaking her head mockingly at George.

"No!" Ginny exclaimed stubbornly. "It was a mistake…on his part."

George snorted loudly, causing his sister to turn around and face him, her wand drawn and waving threateningly in front of his face.

"Did you say something, George?" she demanded, raising her eyebrows in suspicion.

"N-no, nothing," spluttered George hurriedly, and he moved away to help a newly-arrived Audrey out of the fireplace. She was coughing from the excessive amounts of thick charcoal soot that was produced.

* * *

Audrey was Percy's girlfriend; she'd previously been his secretary whilst he'd worked for the Ministry and it was partly due to her that the Weasleys had gained him back; she'd fought her way into his life and helped him turn it around, consequently she was very popular with all of them.

"Where's Percy, dear?" inquired Molly anxiously, after she'd hugged her daughter-in-law and taken the box brimming with homemade chocolate liqueur truffles that Audrey offered.

"He said for me to go on ahead, he forgot something," apologised Audrey. "He'll be here soon."

Molly nodded and gestured for her to go and sit down.

"Won't the food get cold?" Ron, who had just appeared from upstairs and had a hungry look clouding his cerulean-blue orbs, asked. "I'm starving. Oh, hey Ginny, Angelina, Audrey, George."

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother's greed. "Mum's put a Heating Charm on it. We're waiting for the others to get here first. And actually, Ronald, I need a few words with you."

"Uh-oh," whistled George amusedly. "That's not good, Ronnie."

And indeed, Ron had paled a sickly white colour as he approached Ginny, who was glaring at him with such intensity it was a wonder he didn't make himself scarce.

"Why the hell did you invite Potter to this dinner?" she demanded furiously. "You know I hate him!"

"Do I?" Ron retorted defensively. "Wasn't that you I saw snogging the face off Harry Potter in Witch Weekly?"

"That was not my fault!" snapped Ginny angrily, advancing on Ron. "He snogged me and before I could hex him, some photographer sprung out of nowhere!"

"It didn't look like that to me," muttered George, earning himself a wrath-filled glare from his irate sister.

"Look," started Ron nervously, his eyes trained on Ginny's protruding and rather threatening wand, "Harry caught me in the Hog's Head the other day, before your big match. Said he wanted to catch up, right? We were sort of mates at Hogwarts. Well, anyway, we got chatting and the guy's a real laugh-" he stopped short at the disgusted look on his younger sister's face "-I mean – oh, anyway – and we hit it off. Then this morning, just after that article got distributed, Harry sends me a Patronus saying he's girlfriend's ditched him and he's got nowhere to go. So I said, Hermione and I have just bought a place and he's welcome to stay there."

There was an explosion of outraged and indignant voices at this.

"You've bought a house?" exclaimed Mrs Weasley, her tone revealing her shock and disapprovement.

"Where _is _Hermione?" Ginny suddenly inquired, scanning the room for her elusive best friend.

"Why couldn't he stay with his parents?" asked Angelina inquisitively.

"You're letting him stay with you?" Audrey repeated in disdain.

"Mum, Mum, it's not a big deal," Ron insisted evasively, as his mother sank into the ratty, faded beige sofa. "I've got a steady salary coming in, Hermione's just got a new job at the Ministry…we're doing well, and we really want this house. It's perfect…" he trailed off uncertainly "…for raising a family…"

Mrs Weasley's head snapped up and she stared at Ron in surprise.

"Not yet," he hastened to add dismissively, "but sometime. Hermione's upstairs, she's just in the toilet. Mum, please, understand. We're married, we don't want to be living in some poky little flat, we want space and a home."

"Ronnie, that's fantastic!" Mrs Weasley leaped up from her seat and threw herself at her youngest son. "Darling, I couldn't be more thrilled! Wait until your dad hears! He's just outside. I'll go and get him." she bustled out of the room, shivering with excitement.

"That went well." said George, smirking.

Ron ignored him. "Look, Ginny, he needed a place to stay, okay? And it felt rude not to invite him to dinner, he looked so glum, having just been dumped by Cho. Plus, if my own sister's the one causing him misery I should try and make it up to him somehow."

"How am I causing _him _misery?" Ginny shrilled indignantly. "He's the one ruining my life!"

But she never got an answer, for at that moment Hermione pounded down the stairs and took her place next to Ron, consequently everyone was occupied with greeting one-another.

* * *

The remaining guests (except for Potter) soon arrived; Arthur came hurrying in from the garden to congratulate his son with a delirious Mrs Weasley; Percy Apparated in, a curious, small square-shaped box implanted in his jeans' pocket; Bill arrived, much to Fleur's delight (and to everyone else's discomfort they started playing extensive tonsil tennis) and Charlie Flooed in, announcing he was leaving Romania for a few weeks to do research on a new type of dragon.

They were just waiting for Potter.

"It was nice of you to invite him, Ron," remarked Audrey conversationally.

"It'd be even nicer if he bothered to turn up," Ginny countered innocently, as everyone took their places at the burdened dinner table.

George grinned mischievously. "Anxiously awaiting his presence, Ginny?"

"Ah, yes," Mrs Weasley's sharp eyes fell upon her daughter. "You've been in the papers a lot recently, Ginny."

"Leave her be, Mum," Charlie piped up loyally, winking at his sister, "she can't help it if her ex-boyfriend's a jealous idiot."

"Thanks, Charlie," said Ginny gratefully, mentally deciding he was her favourite brother.

"Charlie, have you even read the second article?" Ron's voice was muffled as he spoke, due to him having stuffed the largest, softest potato into his mouth when his mother hadn't been looking. "It made her out to be some kind of scarlet woman."

"I haven't read it," Ginny announced irritably, "and I don't intend to, either."

"This Potter bloke is obviously some kind of fanboy," objected Bill gruffly, "and Ginny's not a scarlet woman, so that Parvati Patil can shove her magazine up her-"

"Parvati wrote the second article?" Ginny echoed disbelievingly. "No!"

"Ginny, why were you even on a date with this man?" pointed out Percy questioningly. "You claim not to like him."

"It wasn't a date," by this point Ginny was getting very agitated, "can we please drop the subject? This is meant to be a family dinner, not some kind of questionnaire about my private life."

"Beel and I 'ave zome news." Fleur broke the tense silence that followed, and Ginny felt a rush of gratitude towards her previously-loathed sister-in-law. "I am pregnant."

The following conversation relieved Ginny of being the centre of attention; Bill and Fleur basked jovially in the many congratulations they received, and a tearful Mrs Weasley was the happiest of all.

"Another grandchild," she sniffed delightedly.

"Any names yet?" asked Arthur warmly, smiling at his eldest son with affection.

"If it's a boy, Louis," Bill replied eagerly, "and for a girl, Dominique."

"Beautiful names," pronounced Mrs Weasley exuberantly.

Ginny was about to suggest they start eating; she was becoming hungrier by the second and increasingly angry at the rudeness of Potter, not even bothering to show up, when there was a knock on the door and Mrs Weasley sprung up to answer it.

* * *

She flung it open to reveal Potter, handsomely dressed and having even gone as far as shaving, and clutching two bunches of flowers – some aromatic crimson roses, Mrs Weasley's favourites, and to Ginny's surprise, some white lilies. Her favourites.

"For you, Mrs Weasley, I'm so sorry I'm late," he said smoothly, stepping inside the house to grin at the residents, "Hedwig broke her wing and I had to get her straight to a Healer that specialises in owls."

"Of course, thank you so much, Harry dear, that's perfectly okay. Is Hedwig alright?" Mrs Weasley queried politely, taking the flowers and lifting her chiselled nose to the petals, breathing in contentedly.

"She's fine now," answered Potter cordially, "thank you for asking, and thanks for letting me come to dinner. I hope I didn't delay you all too much."

"No, not at all," Mrs Weasley insisted, her mothering nature taking hold. "Come and sit down, dear, next to Ginevra, that's right."

He was still clutching the white lilies.

"Ginny, so nice to see you again," greeted Potter sweetly, but Ginny detected the smirk underneath his eloquent smile and scowled.

"Wish I could say the same for you." she said rudely.

Mrs Weasley let out an audible gasp; she frowned at her daughter. "Ginny!"

"It's quite all right, Mrs Weasley," Potter nodded amiably. "These are for you, Ginny." and he held out the exquisite white lilies to the disgruntled girl.

Angelina, Audrey and Fleur all gave delighted gasps and the occasional "aww", apparently overwhelmed by this act of affection.

She hesitated, before reaching out and taking them. _Two can play at that game, Potter_, she decided.

"Thank you _so _much, Harry," she simpered, "you're ever so sweet, bringing me flowers." she lifted her smooth hazel wand and conjured up a pretty floral vase, in which the flowers then resided.

Hermione raised her eyebrows from across the table. This could not end well.

Potter, Ginny could tell, was taken aback, and his gave her the upmost pleasure; however, the wicked gleam returned to his eye and he could barely fight off a grin.

"Of course, anything for you, Ginevra," he replied agreeably.

"If you two are done," George butted in, as Ginny opened her mouth to respond, "there is a dinner here waiting to be eaten?"

Flushing a humiliating carmine, Ginny swallowed and Potter sat down smugly, not before he flashed her a wink.

* * *

The rest of her family greeted Potter and the discussion changed to him; Mrs Weasley wanting to know every last detail from his family to what he got in his OWLs. Hermione was thrusting Ginny sympathetic looks, but Ginny was determined not to let him win.

"So how long have you and Ginnykins been dating?" George smirked, eyeing Ginny evilly.

"Potter professed his undying love for me after Chang dumped his sorry arse," Ginny explained sweetly, "but I was sorry to say I didn't return these feelings-"

"Until I kissed her and she realised she couldn't resist me any longer-" Potter interjected.

"-but then I told him that was a mistake on his part-"

"-and then she kissed me again-"

"-but I pushed him away, telling him to go back to Chang-"

"-I knew she didn't really mean it, and she knew that deep inside too-"

"-but I did mean it, of course-"

"-and then we went back to hers and-"

"Do I really want to know?" George interrupted, miming throwing up.

"Enough," Ron agreed, waving his hands in front of his face sternly.

"None of that happened," Ginny persisted, "really."

Her brothers exchanged knowing looks, but fortunately for Ginny Hermione decided her friend had been tortured enough, and managed to change the topic rather cunningly.

"So, George, how's Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes going?"

The conversation launched into an in-depth discussion about new products, profit margins, and expansion – Ginny caught Hermione's eye and mouthed a quick "thank you" to which her best friend acknowledged warmly.

Potter was leaning back in his chair, donning a satisfied smirk. The mere sight of it decreased Ginny's mood further; she reached out and jabbed him under the table with her stiletto.

He made no movement, but his mesmerising green eyes locked onto hers.

"Isn't it time you left, Potter?" she hissed, her family still in the midst of quizzing George about the shop.

"Only if you come with me," he replied casually, spearing a sliver of chicken with his fork.

Ginny didn't bother to dignify that with a response; she instead loaded her own plate and began eating, albeit only half-heartedly. Even the delicious cooking of her mother wasn't enough to lift her mood, and the conversation took an unexpected turn.

"I bumped into Neville Longbottom the other day," said Bill thickly through a heavy mouthful of meat, his voice sloppy. "He said he's seeing someone."

"How did he keep that quiet?" wondered Angelina, as all heads turned to Ginny, who suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "I would have thought the press would be all over it."

"They were too occupied with other people's love lives," Mrs Weasley said meaningfully, serving Charlie more potatoes.

"Who was it, do you know?" Ginny found herself asking.

"He didn't say," Bill told her quietly. "But I reckon he's making it up. Angelina's right, the press would have covered it. He's still upset about the break up."

"And you rejecting his proposal," Potter added helpfully.

"He proposed to you?" Mrs Weasley shrieked, dropping her fork with a raucous clatter.

Ginny glared at Potter, her tone callous as she responded. "Yeah, but I said no."

"Why?" Audrey squealed. "He's the nation's most eligible bachelor!"

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Is that right, Audrey?"

"Well, I'm pleased you said no," Arthur chimed in unexpectedly, and Ginny felt a warm rush of love towards her father. "No daughter of mine should get engaged to a chap that sells her out to a newspaper at the first sign of trouble."

"Yes, I agree, Ginny deserves better," Potter smiled.

"Anyway, is everyone finished?" Ginny didn't wait for an answer and instead began vanishing plates to the guests' astonishment.

"Ginevra, dear-"

But Arthur nudged his wife pointedly and she stopped as Hermione got up to help Ginny with the plates.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, as the other guests began to get up from the table whilst it was being cleared and Ginny's brothers sparked up a conversation with Potter, interrogating him about his supposed "love" for their younger sister.

"Fine, thanks," Ginny reassured her unconvincingly. "I'm fine."

"Nobody's bothered about the article," Hermione observed kindly, "and for the record, I think the family knows you're not really going out with Harry."

"Harry?" Ginny whipped around and stared at her friend. "Since when are you on a first-name basis with him?"

Hermione flushed. "I – well – I…"

Ginny waited, racking her brains for why exactly Hermione was acting so strangely – and then it dawned on her.

Not many people knew her favourite colour or restaurant - and it figured that Potter would use such an underhand tactic as to cross-examine her best friend.

"Hermione…have you been feeding Potter information on me?" she demanded, dreading the answer she knew she'd get.

"It wasn't like that," Hermione mumbled, her cheeks resembling sunburnt tomatoes as she hung her head shamefacedly. "He asked me some questions about you, and I answered them."

"Why would you do that?" Ginny asked, appalled, her voice quivering.

"He really likes you. And I'm not just saying that, Ginny. I thought maybe if he got to know you better, he'd stop acting like a three year old-"

Ginny sighed, and Hermione stopped abruptly, not knowing whether or not to continue.

"It's fine. I know you meant well. But you should have told me."

"Ron suggested I leave you two to it." Hermione explained shiftily. "I know that was a mistake."

"What was?" a shiver rocketed up Ginny's spine as two strong, masculine hands clapped themselves on her shoulder.

Hermione hid a smile and quickly walked away to talk with Angelina and Fleur, seeing her chance to escape and taking it.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, would you just leave me alone?" Ginny's patience was wearing thin now and she spoke as hostilely as possible in an attempt to emphasise her words. She shook his hands off her shoulders, somewhat reluctantly; the warmth and comfort they brought was not easily found.

"Sorry, Weasley, I just can't control myself around you. I'm trying, but it's so terribly difficult." claimed Potter.

"Well, try harder." retaliated Ginny aggressively.

"I'm sorry for acting so immaturely." this came out of nowhere, and Ginny could hardly believe what her ears were telling her; she frowned dubiously.

"Nice try, Potter." she retorted crisply. "But I'm not that stupid."

"When I'm around you, I just get these urges that make me act like an arrogant toerag," breathed Potter melodramatically, "and – and – I can't control myself!"

Ginny tried her best not to laugh, but she was fighting a losing battle and eventually dissolved into giggles.

Potter grinned. "Was it that bad?" he pulled what seemed to be an offended expression, but it looked more comical to an already amused Ginny.

"Yes," she said, almost amicably. "Very."

But she redeemed herself just as quickly as she'd allowed him to break through her cold-shouldering frosty demeanour, and swallowed before walking away towards Audrey.

* * *

"I got through to her," Potter voiced his thoughts elatedly; "she let me in. She likes me."

It was more to himself than anyone else, but of course George Weasley wasn't about to let that pass, and he smirked correspondingly.

"Trying to charm our Ginevra, eh, Potter?"

"It's bloody difficult as well," Potter answered honestly, as he watched Ginny laughing at something Audrey said. "But she's worth it."

"Eugh!" George spluttered. "Stop mooning over my baby sister!"

Potter chuckled affably. "Sorry, mate. But I really do like her."

George considered this. "You swear? Because if this is some misguided quest to get every girl that rejects you, and I speak for all the Weasley men when I say this – you're a dead man."

"I'm serious. I've had a thing for her since sixth year at Hogwarts. I forgot about her after we left; I hadn't seen her in years – and then I see her again in the Hog's Head and she clearly doesn't remember a thing about me. I figured I might as well make a new impression, but I mucked that up."

"Don't be so sure," George wagged his finger flippantly. "I know when our Ginnykins likes a boy, and that's you. Trust me."

"I've got to get her to trust me," Potter decided gregariously. "I just need the right opportunity. That's all."

George nodded light-heartedly. "Treat her right, though, yeah? I've yet to have words with that Longbottom fool for messing her about."

There wasn't a chance for Potter to agree and the two of them to abuse Neville, as Molly Weasley had finished laying out all the various puddings and was beckoning the guests to the table.

* * *

Ginny traipsed over towards the table, pleased to see her Firewhiskey cake perched in the middle of the table and looking rather aesthetic.

There were Audrey's homemade truffles; a strange looking, vibrantly coloured trifle from Angelina; chocolate chip biscuits from Mrs Weasley and Fleur had contributed an extravagant-looking French pastry which she claimed to have imported from France directly.

Mrs Weasley poured them all a small dose of Firewhiskey and began cutting up the desserts.

Ginny was pleased to see most of her brothers, Angelina, Potter and Hermione all shared out ample slices of her cake, and took a sizable dollop of trifle to try.

Unbeknownst to her, George had also had a hand in baking the trifle.

"This is delicious, Mrs Weasley," Potter commented courteously, chewing on his generous serving of Firewhiskey cake.

"Thank you, my dear, but Ginevra made the cake," Mrs Weasley told him graciously. "She's never had much time for cooking, but she does make the family recipes beautifully."

Ginny flushed and refused to meet Potter's eye, instead swallowing a spoonful of the trifle.

"_Bleuugh_!" she spat, retching as the trifle tainted her tastebuds, managing to splatter regurgitated jelly onto Mrs Weasley's once-clean white tablecloth.

"What's the matter?" asked Angelina anxiously, peering at Ginny's damp white face, darkened only by the spicy cinnabar freckles that were sprinkled across her nose. "Was it not chilled properly?"

"It – had – something – in – it!" Ginny choked, coughing into her napkin whilst a distraught Mrs Weasley hunted in her medicine cabinet for a tonic.

Potter, Hermione noticed, looked quite distressed.

Mrs Weasley wrenched open her daughter's mouth and poured down half a bottle of something chrome-yellow and vile-smelling. Moments later, Ginny had stopped choking and her face flooded with colour; Angelina looked mortified.

"I – could've sworn I followed the recipe right," she stammered. "I –" and then, as if something – or someone – had sprung to mind, she trailed off and turned to stare angrily at her husband.

"George Fabian Weasley! Did you spike my trifle?"

George now looked frightened of his wrathful wife. "No dear, of course not!"

Ginny scowled at her brother indignantly. "George! You put a crunched up Nausea Nougat in the trifle, didn't you?"

"Maybe…." George whispered, now facing the fury of two very feisty, very capable witches.

Angelina reached up, grabbed the large trifle bowl, and upturned it onto her husband's head.

The table, with the exception of Molly Weasley, burst into tickled mirth as George emerged, dripping in clotted cream, crimson jelly and decorative chocolate drops, but battling a smile.

* * *

The rest of the evening progressed without further ado; it was at nine 'o' clock that Ginny began feeling drowsy and decided to retire home. She bid her goodbyes to her family, and turned around to face the fireplace, where she paused brusquely.

Potter was standing there, watching her.

"Well – bye, Potter." she gabbled hurriedly.

"I'll see you soon, Weasley," he grinned, sending electric jolts to unsettle her stomach.

"Try not to annoy Hermione too much," she warned him. "I mean it."

"I know you do," he said simply. "You'll come and visit, right?"

"Sod off," she scowled, but not as forcefully as it could have been, and she swore she saw the ghost of a smile on Potter's amused expression as she snatched up a handful of Floo powder and left for her flat.

* * *

Gloria was already home when Ginny emerged from the soot-soaked fireplace, dancing dazedly around the kitchen and humming happily to herself, wrapped up in her own little world.

"Gloria? I thought you said you'd be out all night?" Ginny's curious words snapped Gloria from her reverie and the latter smiled dreamily.

"I thought so too…until…" she trailed off and resumed her delirious humming. It was odd – because the tune she was humming sounded bizarrely like "Here Comes The Bride"…

"Gloria? What's happened?" Ginny definitely felt alarmed now, and slightly suspicious.

In response, her friend stuck out her left hand proudly, giggling as though she was a Hogwarts schoolgirl.

And Ginny understood why.

For on Gloria's hand was a small gold band, snug and gleaming, studded with a flashy, large silver diamond.

"I'm engaged!" squealed Gloria unnecessarily. "And guess what?"

"W-what?" Ginny, still taken aback, stammered out her words, clearly fazed by this shock announcement.

"You're my Maid of Honour! And Archie's having Potter as his Best Man!"

* * *

So, as always...any reviews are appreciated & replied to, tell me what you think!

~GoldenSnidget13


	7. Haste Makes Waste

Disclaimer: All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s) and are in no way connected to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros. The author of the following FanFiction does not in any way profit from the story and it is written solely for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters and their settings is neither claimed nor implied.

Thanks again to all reviewers, I was so pleased with the response I got! Thanks for all your feedback and thank you to all who favourite'd and alerted.

* * *

Guest - Thank you! I'm so glad. And sorry for the three month wait for this update! (Tomorrow would be exactly three months from when I last updated)

Darkryus - I will be exploring Harry's relationship with Lily and James in further depth but not extremely so, as that's not really the main focus of the fic. However, I understand it needs to be explained. Thank you! :)

Guest - So glad you like it.

Guest - Will do! And thank you :)

Siriusly - That's so kind, thank you. And that means a lot, because H/G is my OTP and I love to write it!

* * *

Chapter Seven - Haste Makes Waste

* * *

Rendered completely speechless, Ginny found herself staring at her best friend, completely nonplussed and somewhat distraught at this news; not only was her barely-out-of-Hogwarts fellow teammate getting married to some player she'd been engaged in an on-again-off-again fling with, she had also allowed the groom-to-be to choose her worst enemy as his Best Man.

Meaning she'd have to _dance_ with him. _Talk_ to him. _Be around_ him.

But somehow, instead of a jolt of dread, discomfort and distress flooding through her body as she realised this, she felt…well, indifferent.  
Almost as if…_n__o, _Ginny told herself, _stop that_, and she disregarded that last thought quickly.

But upon quickly realising Gloria was grinning at her expectantly, she snapped from her reverie and frowned.

"Gloria, you've been on one date with Archie since you broke up," she pointed out cynically, "don't you think it's all a bit soon?"

Gloria's bouncy tone deflated slightly at her friend's response; her shoulders sagged and the glowing spark died from the euphoria evident in her intense eyes. "Ginny, Archie and I were made for each other. Love is magical. What's the point in waiting? We love each-other, and we want to be together."

"Gloria, the relationship ended for a reason," Ginny objected. "And…he hasn't always been faithful in the past. Harry – I mean, Potter – told me Cho Chang's been having an affair with him for a few weeks."

"That was ages ago, and she's history," Gloria argued dismissively, "Archie says his playboy days are over. He wants to marry me, Ginny, he bought the ring a week ago. And I haven't even told you the best part yet!"

Ginny said nothing, but her silence failed to deter Gloria; if anything she seemed even more inspired by her friend's absence of speech.

"The wedding's in a week!" seeing her friend's shocked, disapproving expression at these joyous words, Gloria sighed exasperatedly. "Ginny, why wait? We want to tie the knot as soon as possible!"

"Gloria, have you given this any thought at all?" Ginny demanded, clearly frustrated at her friend's ignorance. "First of all, if you really have to get married – a week's time is such short notice. How are you going to get a dress, a venue, guests, bridesmaids, bridesmaids' dresses, caterers, decorations, plans, and all of that lot a wedding comes with? And…what's the hurry? You – you're not pregnant, right?"

"No!" Gloria retorted disbelievingly. "Ginny, I've been on the Contraception Potion since I was seventeen. You wouldn't understand. You've never had an adult relationship."

"Excuse me?" Ginny could hardly believe what she was hearing; her immature, ditzy friend was accusing her of being childish? "Neville ring any bells? I dated him for about seven months."

"Yeah, with him pulling all the strings," Gloria answered sarcastically, her scowl deepening. "And don't even get me started on Harry Potter. Flirting, bickering, it's so pathetic. Why don't you just admit that you like him? Look, you're supposed to be my best friend, and I'm getting married next week whether you come or not. And believe me, I'm sure any of the other Harpies would be thrilled to take your place as Maid of Honour and dance with _Harry Potter, _who happens to be both gorgeous and single."

With this final, cutting finish, Gloria swiftly turned away, her original ecstasy melted away into the cold, heavy atmosphere, and slammed into her room, cursing violently at the top of her breath.

* * *

_FALMOUTH FALCONS STAR TO SCRAPE UP BOY-WHO-LIVED'S SOGGY SECONDS?_

_Holyhead Harpies fans were shocked and rather appalled at the recent discovery that their favourite Chaser's new beau – having quickly moved on from hunky ex-boyfriend Neville Longbottom, 22, also known as the "Boy-Who-Lived" and saviour of the Wizarding world – is now bad-boy bachelor Harry Potter, also 22, who happens to be Seeker for popular Quidditch team the Falmouth Falcons._

_Ginevra Molly Weasley, 21, (pictured above) was spotted by a photographer, who happened to be in the area, enjoying a passionate rendezvous with said Seeker, Harry Potter, at Muggle-mixed restaurant, Cucina Incantata, outside the Ladies' toilets. The Chaser recently split with boyfriend of seven months, Neville Longbottom, after he dumped her prior to Weasley's anti-social behaviour and devotion to her career, but she appears to have moved on quickly._

_Fans were happy to comment on their Chaser's audacious behaviour._

_'Ginny Weasley used to be my favourite player,' says a fan who wishes to remain unnamed, 'but since she started snogging that Falcons guy I've realised she's too disloyal. I think she should be kicked off the Harpies.'_

_'It's outrageous,' remarks Cho Chang, Tutshill Tornadoes player and ex-girlfriend of Potter, 'at the time of this "date" of theirs I was still going out – and living with – Harry after his mum kicked him out. That little harlot stole him. She's not to be trusted – girls, keep tabs on your boyfriends, or she'll have him off you before you can say vicious slut!'_

_And unsurprisingly, Neville Longbottom's got a few words for his ex-girlfriend._

_'Well, as surprised as I am she's moved on so quickly, I'm worried for her,' he sighs, 'she's clearly going downhill since our break-up. I only wish we could've stayed friends, but she wouldn't hear of it. Of course, one of the reasons I had to end it was because of Potter. I had a feeling she was being unfaithful. I hope Ginny realises her behaviour is unacceptable for a role-model to young, impressionable girls. I care about her very much, you see. Ginny, if you're reading this, consider your position. We wouldn't want you getting kicked off the Harpies…but the truth is, this "relationship" won't last five minutes. They don't mesh well together at all. Ginny will ditch him when she sees sense.'_

_Were Weasley and Potter alone on this date? That information remains unknown, however we were able to weasel a little something out of one of the waitresses._

_'They certainly seemed cosy,' the unnamed woman claims, 'in fact, they were flirting quite a lot. I remember, I saw Weasley come out of the toilets and Potter pounced on her. She didn't look as though she was unhappy about it.'_

_However, not everyone is unsupportive of this new-found love._

_'I love Ginny Weasley,' an eight-year old tells me, 'she's the best Holyhead Harpy and she's so good at Quidditch. She's really nice too…she signed all my notebooks…so she should date who she wants.'_

_'A true fan stays loyal,' agrees another Holyhead Harpies supporter, 'I love all the Harpies, but especially Ginny. Besides, that Potter guy is hot.'_

_'Who cares who she's dating?' interjects one. 'You media people are disgusting. Ginny, if you're reading this, tell those bitches to-' – the further comment was withheld for use of foul profanities._

_When asked for a statement, the representative for the Harpies' Press Office said 'We do not comment on our players' personal lives.'_

_Will Potter and Weasley fight their way through negativity from onlookers? Or will Neville Longbottom's words become prophetic? Only one way to find out! Catch the next edition of Witch Weekly for more hot gossip._

_Article written by** Parvati Patil**._

* * *

Ginny slapped the wretched article angrily down on Hermione's newly-bought, honey-smelling kitchen table and moaned agonisingly.

"I thought Parvati was my friend," she complained miserably. "And Neville…how could he?"

"Neville's obviously still in love with you," Hermione informed her bluntly, "either that, or he's still annoyed about you dumping him and is seeking vengeance. I'll be talking to him, don't you worry."

"No," Ginny objected immediately, "I will. It's better coming from me. I'm not taking this rubbish from him anymore. I only wish I hadn't let you coerce me into reading this rag."

"Your fans are loyal to you," Hermione claimed. "Look – they don't care one jot about you dating Potter."

"But I'm not dating him!" Ginny exclaimed indignantly, crumpling her slice of Hermione's moist, light carrot cake into scattered crumbs. "Hermione…"

"I'm the one living with him," her friend pointed out bitterly, "And let me tell you, he's not an easy roommate."

Ginny and Hermione had worked out a rota; Hermione would ask Potter every morning where he was going, what time, and for how long, and then Ginny would schedule her visits around this, meaning when he was absent from the flat she'd spend as much time as possible catching up with Hermione. Although lately…she was slightly hoping she might run into him…

_Just to tell him off for the article, _Ginny told herself firmly, and disregarding that last thought, Ginny hurriedly averted her attention to Hermione's rambling explanation of how frustrating Harry was.

"He takes about an hour in the shower, and uses all the hot water. Then he eats all my food. Including drinking all the pumpkin juice, devouring the Cauldron Cakes I keep, and on top of that sharing a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey with Ron whenever he gets a chance. _And _he's constantly bugging me to speak to you."

"About what?" Ginny demanded instantly.

Hermione eyed her suspiciously for a moment, but responded. "About getting you to realise he's 'not that bad' as he put it."

Ginny spluttered melodramatically.

"Come on," Hermione persisted, "I think he really, really likes you. Ron said George mentioned something about him being head-over-heels for you."

"Yeah, that's why he stalks me, insults me and gets me bad publicity." Ginny replied sarcastically. She glanced at her watch; it was nearing time for Potter's return, and she knew she should probably get going.

_I don't want to desert Hermione, _she told herself firmly, _that would be mean, right? If Potter turns up I'll just keep out of his way. But I can't leave Hermione, that would be rude._

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "Oh, when's your next match? I want to schedule my work days around it so I can come and watch you."

Ginny smiled. "It's against the Ballycastle Bats, sadly, and it's in two weeks." she told her friend. "We're doing pretty well in terms of the league – after winning against the Falcons – but the Bats are brilliant, and we're no match for their Keeper."

"When is it?" pressed Hermione. "And don't worry about that, you're ten times better than Finbar Quigley."

Ginny stared at her in raw astonishment; Hermione's knowledge of Quidditch, as far as she was aware, was abysmal.

"I might have nabbed Ron's copy of Quidditch Through the Ages," admitted her friend shamefacedly, her cheeks tinged a faded magenta. "Anyway, I-"

But her friend's attempt to change their warm conversation was diminished as there was a raucous hiss, a burst of emerald flames, and a spluttering, coughing Harry Potter emerged from the fireplace, dripping in charcoal-black dust and clutching his throat.

"Granger," he nodded curtly, having not noticed Ginny yet, who gulped and stayed silent, her limbs frozen in anticipation as her stomach began to do extensive gymnastics.

"You, enough," Hermione snapped shortly, as he began rummaging in the fridge and produced a chilled Butterbeer, ruffling his dishevelled hair so that the abundant soot and grit that had accumulated in his locks drifted slowly to make an unattractive black patch on the previously spotless kitchen floor. "Put that back in the fridge, wash your hair and wipe up my kitchen. Now."

"Spoken to Ginny recently?" Potter ignored her livid instructions and ripped the cork off with his teeth. "And don't worry, Granger, as soon as my Falcons paycheque comes through I'll gladly fork out my share of the mortgage."

"No, I haven't," fibbed Hermione, as Ginny gestured urgently, her topaz orbs glazed with alarm, "and where are you getting all this money from? Your mother's cut you off, and the Falcons money isn't enough for you to keep splurging out on things like you are doing. Tell me."

"None of your business," he muttered rudely. "Look, Granger, I'm really sorry, I'll be out of your wild mane as soon as I can, but until then…I just need to tell Weasley the truth about how I feel."

"Tell her yourself."

Ginny rasped out the words as they toppled off her tongue, swallowing determinedly.

Harry whipped around, staring at her in surprise, as a smile weaved throughout his cheeks and his striking jade eyes brightened. "Weasley," he greeted softly. "Good to see you."

"I was just leaving," she told him firmly, "if you've got something to say, say it."

"Archie told me the news," he grinned. "About the wedding."

"What news? What wedding?" exclaimed Hermione shrilly, jumping up from her seat and looking expectantly at her best friend. "Ginny?"

Ginny glared furiously at Potter before turning to Hermione. "I was going to tell you, but I thought Gloria might want to say it herself. Gloria's engaged to Archie Fagonwheel and they're getting married in a week."

Hermione's jaw slackened as this information registered in her eyes; Ginny waited for her sister-in-law to unleash a torrent of disapproval and angst.

"I'm not really surprised." was the answer she got.

"_What_?" Ginny stammered in amazement as Hermione clasped her hands together dreamily, sinking back into her cushioned seat.

"Oh come on, Ginny," said Hermione, "this has been coming on for weeks. Gloria's mad for him and from what I can see whenever they're together, he's pretty smitten as well."

"Hermione, she barely knows the guy," Ginny argued, "they're getting married – in a week – and – and she's picked me as her Maid of Honour!"

"Barely knows him might be stretching it a bit far. I mean, obviously it's a bit melodramatic." Hermione raised an eyebrow at her friend's antics. "Ginny, you've always been a bit of a romantic, much more than me. When Ron and I got married it was a very organised, planned out wedding but that was what was perfect for us."

"I do think it's romantic, Hermione. And if it's perfect for Gloria, then I'm excited for her. But I still think she might regret it if she does this so quickly. And to make matters worse, Archie's picked You-Know-Who over here as his Best Man, Hermione," Ginny confessed miserably, eyeing up her new "partner". "I have to work with him! I have to _dance _with him!"

"Hey!" Potter protested, a hurt expression painted upon his adorable features. "I'm a great dancer."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him, supressing a smile, and turned back to Hermione. "It's too soon."

Hermione considered this. "I feel the same way, Ginny; I wouldn't want to get married in a week's time either..."

"But if Gloria wants to do this now, it's up to her." Ginny sighed reluctantly.

Potter raised his eyebrows. "Gloria sounds like a bridezilla to me," he commented brashly, "but when Ginny and I are planning our wedding, it's going to be perfect, romantic _and_ dramatic, right Weasley?"

Ginny scowled at him whilst Hermione smirked, nodding.

"So did Fagonwheel whip out a ring and beg Glor to marry him, or did he get down on one knee and proclaim his everlasting love for her?" Ginny inquired, fighting a smile.

"Well, he says he did it 'the traditional way' but to be perfectly honest, I-"

"Well if it isn't baby Ginnykins and her beau."

Ginny knew that irritatingly confident, humoured voice anywhere; George Fabian Weasley was standing in the doorway, an infuriatingly smug smile plastered across his heavily-freckled features with a knowing look embedded in his eyes.

"George." she nodded curtly.

It was only then she noticed Ron was standing next to him, clutching two straining plastic bags crammed full of assorted foods and what looked like a new book for Hermione.

"What are you doing here, Ginny?" he demanded, not unkindly, but his cobalt eyes flickering from her to Potter, who looked as though he was a deer caught in the headlights, sheepishly shifting from one foot to another.

"Thanks for the welcome," she said sarcastically, as Hermione rushed forward to pepper kisses over her gratified husband's lips and devour the new book he'd bought her. "I was having a chat with my best friend. Why's Georgina here anyway?"

"George is here to discuss a new product for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," retorted Ron crisply. "Harry, shouldn't you be at Quidditch practice?"

"It ended early," shrugged his friend casually. "Anyway, Cho's taken to sitting in at the stands to watch. She's dating Michael Corner now."

Ginny spluttered, half-way between a laugh and a cough. "Now there's a match made in heaven." she remarked flippantly.

"Both our exes, eh?" Potter winked, as Ginny's stomach contracted.

George cleared his throat loudly. "Hermione, why aren't you at work, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't start for another week," she answered amiably, kindly ignoring Ginny's heated crimson cheeks, "so I'm using the spare time interviewing elves to get into the department. They really are shockingly underrepresented and it's about time someone did something-"

"For Dobby's memory," mumbled Ron quietly, and a hushed silence swept throughout the room.

Dobby, a house-elf with a particular liking to Neville, Ron and Hermione, had been killed during the Battle of Hogwarts by Bellatrix Lestrange, who had malevolently thrown a knife at his chest after he saved the three of them from her wrath. He had been a somewhat dopey, but lovable and brave character, who had been set free by Neville and had lived a somewhat short, but adventurous life.

"Yes, for Dobby." agreed Hermione softly. "I wondered about asking Winky, you know…but she never really got over his death and I don't think she'd really enjoy that kind of work. Besides, she's still at Hogwarts, you know that."

"I know a house-elf who might help," said Potter suddenly. "My godfather, Sirius has this mangy old thing, Kreacher, who's a real ratbag. Some work might brighten him up a bit, he lives in this dump called Grimmauld Place and refuses to leave. Sirius left ages ago but he says he'd rather Kreacher stayed there than came to live with him. But anyway, it'd do him good to have a job."

"Is he interested in elf-rights?" demanded Hermione hopefully.

"I wouldn't say that exactly," Ron muttered darkly; having met Kreacher when Harry had called him to Hogwarts to run errands, he knew that Kreacher's feelings about having masters extended to his requirement that he didn't have to be around Muggle-borns (or "Mudbloods" as he liked to call them).

"I'm not sure it's a good idea for that racist creep to be around Hermione." Ron added as an afterthought.

"Ron!" Hermione sounded shocked. "I'm sure Kreacher's just misunderstood."

"Trust me," Potter advised, "he's not. But yeah, you're right. Forget Kreacher."

Hermione appeared scandalised. "People like you shouldn't have house-elves!" she declared angrily. "You treat them like muck. Well, Ron, I'm going to the Ministry to interview more house-elves right now! Are you coming?"

Ron's expression morphed from terrified to pleased to have been asked along by an indignant Hermione, and waving goodbye to George and Ginny, with a friendly nod at Potter, he and his wife Disapparated with a loud _crack._

"Honestly," George threw his hands up in the air melodramatically. "That Ron has an attention span of a goldfish. He was meant to be the tester for my new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product."

"What's the product?" requested Ginny suspiciously, eyeing up her trickster of a brother.

"Nothing," grinned George slyly. "Hey, Ginnykins, Percy's gone and got himself engaged."

"_Percy_?" Ginny exclaimed, a broad beam rippling over her face. "Percy and Audrey! Wow, this is a good week for marriage."

"What do you mean?" said George curiously, as he Summoned himself an icy Firewhiskey from the fridge.

Ginny snatched it away briskly and continued. "Gloria – you know, my friend on the Harpies – and Archie Fagonwheel have gone and got themselves engaged too."

George scowled. "Really? I thought that Gloria was a bit of a player." he reached out sharply and tried to retain his alcoholic beverage.

"Well, Archie's her one and only," Ginny answered, her eyes glazing over with frost as she sent the Firewhiskey slamming back into the refrigerator with a quick flick of her wand.

"And get this," Potter chipped in helpfully, "they've chosen me and Weasley respectively as Best Man and Maid of Honour."

Ginny murmured something incoherent, and very likely something rude.

"Language, Ginnykins," George winked, his cheeky grin sweeping across his features. "How wonderful, eh? You two get to spend lots of time together."

"Shut up, George." muttered Ginny through gritted teeth. "The wedding's in a week, so unfortunately, there's a lot to do and not much time to do it in."

"A week?" whistled George. "Whoa, that means spending _hours _with each-other. How _will_ you survive…Potter?"

Ginny's head whipped up, her fiery red tendrils splayed out. "Oi, you."

"Well, anyway, I've got to get going, seeing as my test subject has run off. Unless…you two would like to try my new product out?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Yeah, I think I'll pass on that."

"What is it?" inquired Potter with interest, as George scrabbled in his pockets and finally fished out a small, rounded transparent jar, stuffed with spherical red sweets.

He unscrewed it cautiously and a delicious smell of strawberries and cream wafted out and seemed to cloud over the room with a fruity haze.

"These little beauties are very special breath mints." George explained wickedly. "They contain a very, very weak dose of the chemical used in Amortentia so you can smell what attracts you. It's not actually a love potion though so has no effect on how you feel about people whatsoever. Anyway, if ingested, they keep your breath smelling of your favourite scents for up to two weeks."

"Do they have a name?" asked Potter curiously, as Ginny eyed the "mints" dubiously.  
_  
_"Not yet." George admitted. "Anyway, you two lovebirds, want to try one?" _  
_  
Ginny grinned mischievously. "Harry does."

Potter raised his eyebrows, but a cheeky glint appeared in his bright eyes.

Slowly, he plucked one of the miniscule, smooth tablets and flung it wildly into his open mouth.

George started guffawing loudly and Ginny felt a pang of relief she hadn't touched the sweets; Potter was slowly morphing into something small, fluffy and ebony-black.

Somehow, an adorably-black, handsome kitten was pawing at her exposed legs, meowing pitifully.

Ginny started laughing accordingly; not only was the situation hilarious, but…well…his silky fur was tickling her skin.

"I call them FelineFancies," George explained as he smirked at the shocked cat whom, now Ginny noticed, had the most entrancing jade orbs, bulbous yet striking. "I wasn't lying about the Amortentia thing though. It has a dose of the chemical in the love potion, but doesn't affect your feelings whatsoever. On the jar, if you use a _Specialis Revelio _charm, it contains instructions of how to administer it to the victim. Just tell them the breath-mint crap I fed you and get them to gulp it down."

"How do you change him back?" Ginny crouched down softly and before she knew what she was doing, scooped up the frantic kitten and nestled it into her arms, running her soothing fingers down its shivering back.

"You seem quite cosy as it is, Ginnykins." George felt obliged to point out. "Sure you want to know?"

At his sister's Mrs Weasley-like glare, George hurriedly produced his wand and muttered something incoherent, his eyes locked onto poor Harry, who seemed remarkably comforted since being in Ginny's arms.

Too late, the latter realised what would happen if she was still clutching Kitten-Harry when he got transformed back into Harry-Harry and squealed as suddenly, both of them were standing with their arms wrapped tightly around the other, Harry nuzzling at her fragranced neck and she resting her own head on his muscled shoulder.

Quickly, Ginny freed herself from the compromising position and avoided George's triumphant, crowing expression.

"I-um – I should go." she fabricated awkwardly.

With this brief goodbye, she Disapparated with a raucous _crack_ back to her apartment, painfully reminiscing of how _good_ Harry smelt (an intoxicating blend of strawberries and fresh broomstick wood).

* * *

Gloria was perched at the kitchen counter, smearing some sort of fuchsia lipstick across her pouted mouth and jovially admiring the effect in a spoon. Beside her lay three glossy bridal magazines, each tossed open on a vividly coloured spread with different, extravagant wedding dresses and veils.

A half-eaten, browning apple was sitting boldly nearby, its flesh now a discoloured fawn, and Ginny concluded Gloria had been visiting someone (presumably Archie) on the Floo, as with always when Gloria used it, there was remnant emerald dust coating the carpet that lay beneath the fireplace.

"Hey." she greeted shortly. "Looking at wedding stuff?"

_Stupid question,_ she reprimanded herself, and this was proved by the dirty look Gloria threw her as she reached over and sipped at her steaming coffee.

"Look, Glor, I'm really sorry I was so negative about your engagement." Ginny told her friend firmly. "But I meant what I said about it being rushed. Still, if that's what you want, that's fine with me. I'm not getting into the middle of all this."

Gloria looked up; the coldness in her eyes melted swiftly away. "Ginny, what would my wedding be without my Maid of Honour?"

Ginny smiled. "Anyway, I'm here to help. Hen nights, dresses, something borrowed, you name it, I'll get it."

Gloria grinned prettily, and Ginny noticed elation glazed over in her friend's eyes, one she hadn't seen in a long time.

_Getting Archie to pick Potter as his Best Man was the best thing I ever did, _Gloria mused wickedly, _and if I plan this wedding right – I won't be the only one marrying into the Falcons._

"Ooh, Ginny, your mother Flooed earlier. She's setting up an engagement breakfast spread for Percy and Audrey tomorrow. She said don't bring any food but come at eight."

Ginny groaned. "Breakfast with those twats? It's like being ten again!"

"Me and Archie have been invited too," Gloria enthused happily, "I told your mum about the engagement and she got all excited and said it'd be a joint celebration."

"Anybody else coming?" inquired Ginny, trying her best to remain casual; Gloria could be irritatingly sharp at times.

"Yes – she's invited Harry, too." Gloria responded knowingly, hiding her victorious smirk. "After hearing about his parents cutting him off, she was getting so tearful and choked-up I suggested she invite him along too – he is the Best Man after all."

"Percy's going to have a hard time choosing," Ginny chuckled amusedly – out of her four other brothers, each would be slightly offended if not chosen for the honour; "makes me glad I'm not one of them."

"Right, well, anyway, you've got a letter." Gloria revealed with a poorly-masked yawn.

"Hedwig?" Ginny asked impulsively.

"No…" Gloria raised her finely-plucked caramel eyebrows. "A parrot! Can you believe that? It got manky scarlet feathers all over the rug as well. And the envelope was made out of plum skin!"

Ginny's grim expression suddenly broke into a broad, delirious grin. "Where?"

Gloria perplexedly Summoned the letter; Ginny suppressed giggles when she caught sight of the patchy, dried heliotrope dirigible plum skin that had been sewn into the shape of an envelope; it smelt dreadful.

Cautiously unwrapping the sticky layer, she grabbed the letter underneath and her eyes began meandering through the words.

_Ginny!_

_Daddy and I just returned from our trip to Switzerland (a few days ago) and of course, we saw many amazing creatures such as the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. I would have taken photographs but they don't like cameras and of course Daddy will be writing a segment for the Quibbler, so you can read all about them then!_

_Anyway, I've missed you a lot, but hopefully the envelope will make for a nice snack, if it doesn't get eaten by the Plimpies on its way. They simply love freshly sewn dirigible plum skin. I did tell Gurdy (the parrot) to guard it safely._

_I've seen the article and don't worry, because Parvati Patil is illegally working for the Droplimb Society to try and bring down Quidditch players by making their thumbs, an essential part to staying on the broom, disappear. _

_Neville seems to have changed a lot. That's sad._

_Anyway, miss you lots, see you soon,_

_lots of love, your friend_

_lUnA_

Hugging the letter to her chest as laughter reverberated softly from her throat, Ginny handed the letter to a puzzled Gloria to read and hurriedly began to scribble a response, her handwriting developing a slanted edge, but legible all the same.

_Dear Luna,_

_Your letter was great, as always, so thanks for that. Interesting to hear about Parvati. I'm so glad you and your dad found some Snorkacks, you'll have to tell me all about your trip…? _

_As for Neville – meh._

_Anyway, in other news, my friend Gloria's getting married – in a week! I could really use your help planning it – I'm also going to need help keeping her under control on her hen night!_

_Let me know, see you soon,_

_love,_

_Ginny_

She commissioned the nearby, moulting crimson parrot, whom was chattering away non-stop in Gloria's bedroom (Gloria had left it in there after it refused to return to Luna without a reply, and grew sick of the sight of floating, vibrantly-coloured feathers drifting around the flat), and sent her parchment straight back.

* * *

After a tiring evening of dragging her eyes through elaborate, ridiculously-priced bridal magazines and narrowing Gloria's definite choices down to three, pure-white dresses, each with separate, exquisite embroidery along the hem and waistline, Ginny retired to bed; even her friend had dozed off in the middle of gabbling on about roses or snowdrops and dunked her powdered nose into a stone-cold mug of black coffee – both agreed enough was enough.

The morning seemed to stretch around reasonably quickly; a good five hours' sleep was sufficient for Ginny and, dragging herself out of bed at seven to get washed and dressed for the dreaded breakfast at the Burrow, she pulled on her favourite, now-ratty dressing gown and stumbled groggily into Gloria's room.

Her friend was already bright-eyed and bushy-tailed; she'd tugged a comb and obviously used a good few spells to straighten her now-immaculate honey curls and was scrabbling in her wardrobe for an appropriate outfit – most of her usual selections showed a little too much cleavage for a breakfast meeting, especially with a sharp-eyed Mrs Weasley.

After a hurried scrub in the shower and smelling naturally of roses, lilies and cinnamon, Ginny shoved on her own, roughly-chosen outfit and dried her damp cinnabar-red locks; she was ready – and hungry, too.

Gloria was desperately trying to conjure up a bouquet of flowers for Ginny's mother when the clock rang for eight, and after three failed attempts and a dusty carpet now shrouded with mouldy lavender petals, the two of them Disapparated, seeing the Floo bowl was empty of powder.

* * *

Even more so than usual, the overpowering stench of chickens and now, bacon, infiltrated the girls' nostrils as they padded into the kitchen from where they'd just Apparated, seeing for once the rooms were spotless.

Since she and her brothers had vacated the old family home, her mother seemed to spend a lot less time cleaning, and a lot more time prodding them all to get married and squeeze out grandchildren; Ginny knew her mother couldn't wait for the day her daughter produced a ring on her finger and resented this – it was slightly off-putting.

Seated comfortably at the kitchen table were Bill, a now-plump, rosy-cheeked yet beautiful Fleur, Ron, Hermione and Archie, all eagerly jabbering away, swapping marriage tips and wedding themes. Ginny was shocked to see the transformation the Falcons playboy had made in just a few weeks – perhaps he and Gloria were good for each-other.

"Arch!" shrieked Gloria delightedly, spying her fiancé straight away in the midst of the heated conversation. "You're here! Baby!"

Archie sprang up from the kitchen table and flung himself at Gloria; Ginny was thrust backwards in the action and left flailing madly in mid-air, until a pair of strong, firm hands found her loose back and carefully lifted her back upwards.

"Thanks." Ginny breathed gratefully as she turned around to inspect her saviour; there stood Harry Potter, looking both relieved and exceedingly handsome.

"No problem, Weasley, just call me your knight in shining armour." Potter answered idly, as he stepped forward.

"More like knight in shining _amore_," quipped George, and of course the other family residents snickered as Ginny flushed and Potter grinned.

"That's me." he nodded. "Smells great…where's Molly?"

"Here I am, and here you are!" a familiar, motherly voice rang out from behind Potter and Ginny instinctively braced herself – too often a time her mother called the Weasley children over for a good scolding.

"Harry, lovely to see you." she trilled merrily. "Ginny, darling, how are you? Gloria and Archie, good you could make it. Hermione, that skirt looks very elegant. Oh, my, Fleur! You're positively glowing!"

Distracted by the new Weasley "sprog" Mrs Weasley scurried over to Fleur and began patting her protuberant stomach fondly, asking friendly, yet slightly intrusive questions.

"Babe," Archie's gruff voice was muffled from where Gloria's silky sheet of caramel tendrils was covering his mouth. "Want to put me down?"

Gloria, who didn't so much as flush as she obeyed, albeit reluctantly, and took her seat at the table. There was a distinct smell of freshly cooked bacon hovering in the air, and Ginny felt her own stomach rumble.

George appeared with his usual kerfuffle; a toxic cloud of heinous magenta pink burst into the room and suddenly, George was coughing and spluttering as he emerged, his choppy red hair dabbed with cerise sparkles.

"Sorry I'm late, had a bit of a mix up with some of those breath mints." he explained lightly, and Ginny exchanged glances with Potter, who suddenly looked quite alarmed as he spotted the little jar rattling around in George's pocket.

When the rest had arrived (Percy and Audrey were last, and of course overwhelmed and touched, whilst Charlie had opted to stay in Romania, claiming there was a Chinese Fireball giving birth and he would send photos and Arthur Weasley had been forced into the Ministry after Kingsley Shacklebolt [the Minister for Magic] found a room stuffed with exploding Muggle teapots and radios), Mrs Weasley waved her wand theatrically and at once the kitchen table was groaning with the weight of the vast array of breakfast items.

Crisp, oily bacon, tinged a juicy, appetising shell-pink; moist, crumbly scrambled eggs, oozing with cream; steaming, milky tea; bitter, refreshing black coffee; sharp, yet sweet, tangy orange juice; stiff, browned toast, smeared with either the creamiest of butters or the homemade, lumpy blackberry jam; croissants and honey – there were crumpets, although these remained untouched, for nobody but Percy liked them and he was too busy answering questions to eat – and finally, Ginny's favourite, plump, rounded sausages, tinted dark fawn and producing a sweet, savoury scent.

Ginny piled her plate high and began munching; breakfast had never been this elaborate when she was a child – money had been as tight as ever – but now Arthur had been promoted and was earning a fair wage, one by one, little luxuries were splurged out on by a frugal Molly.

"To you," Percy sipped prissily at his pristine teacup, having drained the last droplet of tea, and clinked it softly against Archie's mug of coffee.

"To _you_," Gloria repeated sweetly, raising her own glass of orange juice, "and to you, Mrs Weasley, for having me and Arch over."

"It's no problem, dear." Mrs Weasley answered kindly. "Any friend of Ginny's is a friend of mine. Ron, more sausages?"

"Mmmf – 'es peese." Ron mumbled thickly through his heavy mouthful of meat. "'ermione, do 'oo want summowe-toes?"

"More toast?" Hermione translated slowly. "No, thanks. Honestly, Ron."

He grinned back at her, and she smiled affectionately at the dribble of ketchup snaking down his chin.

The rest of the meal was spent in amiable conversation – at that hour of the morning, none of them were in the mood for deep, meaningful talk and so finished relatively quickly, Ginny polishing off her last sausage just as Ron, Bill and Percy chewed ravenously at their scraps of lukewarm, greasy bacon.

Potter was still making his way through a spoonful of scrambled eggs, thoroughly licking the spoon and plunging it back into the small pile on his plate.

Ginny lazily sent her plate flying into the half-full sink and heaved herself up – she felt crammed full of food and regretted her second sausage – but Ron had eaten five and was still gobbling down _another _slice of toast, this time using about half a jar of blackberry jam, most of which ended up framing his mouth as he smudged it down his chin.

Hermione brought out an expensive-looking box of peppermint creams and they all retreated to the sofas, gulping down Italian coffee and sucking on the sweets.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news." Mrs Weasley looked down. "I wasn't going to say anything until we'd had breakfast, and I think now's a good time."

She had everyone's attention – all eyes were locked onto her own, sad orbs.

"We're selling the Burrow."

"_What_?" Ginny burst out, a tangle of emotions knotted together in the one word. "Why?"

"We were offered a very generous deal by a wizard who specialises in architecture. He wants to knock down the house and build up some sort of garden centre with a focus on Venomous Tentacula."

"Mum, you can't!" Ron protested. "We don't need the money, there's only you and Dad at home. Besides, he – he's earning better now." he flushed as he spoke the last sentence; Gloria and Archie were listening intently.

"It's not about money, Ron." Mrs Weasley sighed. "The truth is, with no children at home, we don't need a huge house like this. It's unnecessary. With what he's offering, we could buy a nice one-story house nearby to yours."

Ron exchanged anxious glances with Hermione at this; she spoke up bravely.

"Mrs Weasley, Ron's dad built this house, isn't it a memento of all the memories? And saving your money would be wiser – then you could perhaps take a trip?"

"Hermione, dear, we don't want to sell the house, truly, but...too many memories, and…" Mrs Weasley's voice quivered; she seemed on the brink of tears.

"It's all right, Mum." Bill declared firmly. "Whatever you decide to do."

She hugged her eldest son hard, sobbing gently into his muscular shoulder.

* * *

"Where's Ginny?" asked Potter casually, glancing around the room.

"No idea, probably complaining to Audrey or Fleur about something." Ron replied absently, from where he sat twiddling with Hermione's hands. "You have amazing fingers."

Hermione giggled girlishly in a very flirtatious way – Harry raised his eyebrows, grinning, at their shameless flirting and got up, traipsing outside to the patio.

There sat Ginny, perched on the third step, her head dumped in her shaking hands. Her shiny, intoxicatingly-flowery smelling cinnamon-red hair billowed in the chilly gust and he rubbed his hands together, seating himself daintily next to her.

She started, and upon noticing it was him, scowled – an obvious ruse to hide the miserable expression she'd been wearing.

"Hey, Weasley." he tried.

"Potter." she retorted wryly, fiddling with her thumbs.

"You're upset about the Burrow, aren't you?" he observed quietly.

"I – no – I just…" she struggled, clearly conflicted as to tell him, or leave it alone. To his surprise and delight, she carried on. "I just don't understand why she'd ever sell our childhood home, you know? Seven Weasley children grew up here. And…it's the last…it's…it's all we have left of F-Fred."

She seldom cried, he'd noticed, and it was something he found attractive in her; Cho had been weepy at the slightest thing, and towards the end of their relationship if he hinted at breaking up with her she'd turn on the waterworks and it had made Harry very uncomfortable.

But seeing Ginny cry for the first time – or at least seeing her eyes dampen – was both intriguing and stirring.

"I understand." he found himself saying, gently. "I mean…maybe not in the same context. I'm an only child. But if my mum hadn't lost the baby..."

It was there, for the first time, that Ginny realised he had lost a sibling too. Maybe not quite in the same way – he hadn't grown up with them, known them, but she knew he would have loved them.

"Harry, I didn't…I didn't realise." she confessed, her voice hushed and soft. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Potter told her staunchly. "But I want you to know, I understand what you're feeling. It's like losing a part of you, and to sell your childhood home would be…"

"Difficult?" finished Ginny with a wan smile.

He caught her eye; for the first time she glanced up at him and really saw him for who he was. A different person to that man she'd insulted with and half-flirted with.

He was looking right back at her, his gaze liquefying her insides. "I'll talk to Molly. Get her round. You know she doesn't really want to sell the Burrow – her heart's not in it."

"I, um-" Ginny began.

But she was cut off by his mouth; the delicious, firm feeling of his parted lips on hers, his smooth, malleable skin, the taste of fresh strawberries lingering on his kiss, sweet, sensual, and clinging back to her own mouth.

* * *

"Okay, who had today's bet?" George Weasley demanded, as he whirled around, having had his fair share of watching his precious baby sister in lip-lock with her enamoured admirer. "Please tell me it wasn't Ronnie."

Ron's head shot up indignantly. "Hey! Don't call me that – Georgina."

"Ginny is rubbing off on you." George shook his head. "Percy, Audrey?"

"Nope, we had tomorrow." Percy piped up helpfully, and Audrey, hanging delicately on his arm, nodded.

"Gloria?"

"No, we bet on yesterday." Gloria admitted resentfully, as she snuggled closer up to her fiancé and released a loud, wistful sigh.

"Angelina had it." Hermione smirked, knowing full well this would irritate George.

"Damn it! She's always right." George grumbled idly. "That's the trouble with women."

"Give Ginny some privacy, you lot, and she'll extend you the same courtesy!" Bill instructed his family sternly, ushering them from the window. "And think how pissed off she'll get if she sees us eyeballing her and lover boy."

Immediately, all the Weasley brothers looked extremely alert, and extremely terrified.

"Uh, just remembered, Angie's waiting for me, got to go!" George gabbled. "And don't forget, you all owe Angelina three Galleons!"

Ron scowled as he slumped back into the sofa. "I was sure we'd got it right."

"_I'd _got it right." Hermione corrected him playfully. "I know Ginny, and I'm quite certain that it's not going to happen until our bet. Don't you worry, Ron. The bet was on for them actually getting together, not snogging."

Ron answered by pulling her in for another loving, tender kiss.

George, about to Disapparate, mimed throwing up.

* * *

Ginny broke away first; it was inevitable. She stared back at Harry, who hadn't taken his eyes off her, in disbelief and surprise.

"Weasley – Ginny – I…I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. I can't really explain it. I just think…I think I lo-"

"Wha-I – this was a mistake." Ginny murmured shakily.

"What?" Potter appeared both flabbergasted and hurt. "If you can honestly say you didn't feel anything, I'll stop trying."

Ginny didn't know what to say; the confrontation had confused and scared her – feelings she didn't know she had were surfacing, and there was Potter, wanting an answer from her – Potter the player, who was sure to hurt her.

"I have to go." she fibbed miserably. "I'll – I'll see you."

With those last, brief words, she Disapparated.

* * *

Before you come at me with pitchforks (!) I'm so sorry for the huge delay. I've had end-of-year exams and drama stuff and that, but it's the summer holidays now, so rest assured I'll be writing and updating frequently!  
Anyway, hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading, and as always I really appreciate (and reply to) reviews (hint hint!).

~GoldenSnidget13


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